


Sins, Secrets, and Silence

by mjeanuniverse



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Homophobia, M/M, Slightly cracked in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjeanuniverse/pseuds/mjeanuniverse
Summary: At the beginning of his unexpected journey, Bilbo Baggins gets to know the members of the Thorin's company.  He notices something amiss in the relationship between Thorin and his heir, Fili.  Being a curious hobbit, Bilbo wants to find out what is behind the unsettling silence.  He finds sins and secrets.





	1. Unsettling Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another Fili & Thorin centric fic from me. Oh well, it is my thing and I feel it is my duty to carry the mantle for them.

Sins, Secrets, and Silence 

One leads naturally to the other. Sins committed beget secrets. Secrets kept beget silence. Silence maintained allows for more sins, more secrets and so on and so on…

Mr. Bilbo Baggins has spent a lifetime, well, HIS lifetime, all for fifty years of it, quietly observing those around him, not really participating, not much anyway. Until now, he supposes. That confounded wizard had somehow duped him into this Yavanna- forsaken quest with this company of blasted dwarves, the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Oaken stick up his arse more like it Bilbo snarks to himself ungraciously. Truly, the dwarf is insufferable. Okay, ALL these dwarves are rather insufferable, but Thorin, oh ho… he takes it to a whole new level. 

Bilbo Baggins, respectable hobbit from Bag End, the Shire, Hobbiton, had gotten to know some of his traveling companions a bit better. There is kind Balin with the snowy hair and beard. Balin’s brother, a dwarf of few words, but multiple axes, bald Dwalin. Bilbo wonders what kind of dwarven genetics could produce two brothers who looked so dissimilar as Balin and Dwalin? Honestly, the two were the physical and mental opposites of the other. 

There is deaf Oin and his brother, Gloin the fiery ginger with a temper to match, polite, but powerfully built Dori and his brothers, wide-eyed Ori and sticky fingered Nori. Bilbo would wager a substantial bet that that particular dwarf has half of his mother’s silver spoons stuffed somewhere on his person. 

This motley crew is rounded out with the morbidly cheerful Bofur and his ridiculous hat. Bilbo could not decide which is more ridiculous about Bofur’s brother, Bombur, his belly or his beard. Then there is their cousin, Bifur, a dwarf unable to speak Weston due to an axe embedded in his skull. Finally, the youngest members of the company, are blonde Fili and his brother, Kili, who looks NOTHING like a dwarf, but bears a striking resemblance to some Rangers of the North Bilbo had seen once when he had stopped to have a pint at the Prancing Pony in Bree years ago. Bilbo finds this pair of brothers as physically different as Dwalin and Balin. 

Some weeks into his little adventure, Bilbo had been quite stunned to learn from fat, old Bombur, that Fili and Kili are related to the dour leader of their troupe. The dark haired archer? Yes, of course, Thorin’s affection for that lad is evident, but the blonde? No…Bilbo had thought Bombur’s head must be as soft as his belly until he had confirmed with white haired Balin that, yes, Fili, is in fact Thorin’s sister son and moreover, his heir, the crown prince. Bilbo can scarcely believe it. He takes to surreptitiously watching the pair more closely. 

He notices that the young blonde dwarf seems to stay constantly, but mutely at their fearless leader’s side, but Thorin rarely acknowledges Fili’s presence and NEVER touches the boy. There is something unsettling in the silence and the indifference Thorin shows towards his heir, but nothing that Bilbo can point to as necessarily wrong. 

It is only with a more keen eye on the pair that Bilbo first begins to notice the significant glances and a few lingering looks between the two, so often in fact, the hobbit figures there must be SOME kind of communication going one between the pair with their silent exchanges. In Rivendell, Bilbo observes them together in a few unguarded moments where the hobbit gains more insight into the relationship between the dwarven king and his heir.


	2. Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets more insight into Thorin and Fili's relationship than he'd like. He also learns about some disquieting views the dwarves share.

Bilbo cannot believe the appalling manners and sheer rudeness of the dwarves. Frankly, he had been mortified by their manners, or lack thereof, when they had descended on his tidy smial months before, but now, once they had arrived in Rivendell? Most of their supplies, lost in when a pack pony bolted into a spring melt and rain swollen river. The company, exhausted from being pursued by a band of mounted orcs, who inexplicably could ride in full daylight. In Rivendell, the elves, without a moment’s hesitation, graciously offer them accommodation and refreshment and what do the dwarves do in return? Complain about the food and the hospitality of their hosts, make unwanted sexual advances, AND then, to top it all off, start a food fight amongst themselves! What a merry band of fuckwits, Bilbo thinks as he slinks away from the disgraceful scene unfolding in the once spotless and comfortable dining area. 

This is where the good hobbit stumbles upon the leader of said merry band of fuckwits, Thorin, and his eldest sister son, Fili, in a passageway leading towards the sleeping chambers and private common area the elves had provided for the company. They are engaged in a rather close conversation. Well, Bilbo assumes they are having a whispered conversation as their heads bent so near together, their foreheads almost touch, and while he hears no distinct words, he can catch heavy breathy sounds escaping. Mayhap they are speaking in the dwarven secret language of Khuzdul. What in the name of Middle Earth are they doing? 

  
The pair are too engrossed to notice the halfling’s approach, but as Bilbo draws nearer, he realizes, that no, they are not speaking to one another. What he had incorrectly thought of as breathy whispering between the two, is in fact, little huffs and puffs of expelled air interspersed with tiny whimpers and low rumbling moans. Oh, for the love of Yavanna! 

Bilbo turns on his thickly soled hobbit heel and beats a hurried and stealthy retreat. He makes it to round the closest corner in the passageway before he hears both sets of breathing speed up markedly and the unmistakable choked and muffled exclamations of sexual climax. 

Bilbo’s mind swirls in confusion. Why are they tugging themselves off in the blasted hallway? Marking their territory within this grand elven home? Defacing the elven passageways while the others wreak havoc elsewhere? Bilbo wouldn’t put it past them. 

The hobbit didn’t want to return to where the dwarves were dining, if one could call it that, and he couldn’t get past the pair in the hall to retire for the evening. Caught between a rock and hard place, Bilbo grouses to himself. Unsure of which way to go, he simply hunkers down to wait. As all hobbits have excellent hearing as well as eyesight, Bilbo is an unwittingly party to Thorin and Fili’s post-coital chat. 

“I needed that.’ Thorin stage-whispers as he exhales loudly. Well, not really in a whisper by any measure as Bilbo could hear the words quite plainly. 

“Me, too.” Fili answers softly. 

Bilbo hears something, rather like the sound of someone licking their fingers clean after finishing a particularly delicious treat, followed by a wholly unfamiliar sound of a rumbling hum as if it were coming from the depths of earth. Bilbo realizes with a jolt it is the sound of Thorin chuckling. So the old goat CAN laugh it seems. 

“Keep that up, lad, and I’ll be hard again in the blink of an eye.” 

“That would be a bad thing?” Said in a teasing tone. More licking sounds. “I love the way you taste. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a chance to drink straight from the tap. I don’t want to miss a drop.” 

More rumbling, lower and even deeper this time. “Not that I would EVER complain to only have you give me head, but I had wanted to fuck you so badly. Right there in the hobbit’s table if only we had been given a moment’s peace!” 

Bilbo quickly clamps his hand over his mouth to keep the bark of righteous indignation and outrage from bursting forth. Copulate on MY table? On anyone’s table? Who the fuck even does that? Dwarves apparently, Bilbo fumes for a few heartbeats before Fili’s next, tentative words float to his ear.

“Will we ever have peace, Thorin? Will we ever be able to be together…. openly?” 

The high and mighty Oakenshield does not answer immediately, but Bilbo hears the distress mixed with frustration and sadness in the huge sigh the elder dwarf heaves in reply. 

“I don’t know, Fili. Truly, I don’t. Dwarrow are a stubborn kind and view relationships such as ours as a sin, plain and simple. Add to that, we are blood related….” The deep voice trails off. 

“We must always keep it secret.” It is not asked as a question but rather plaintively stated. 

“Aye.” Bilbo can feel what seems like the weight of several tons of stone behind that one word. 

 

Hours later, as the hobbit endeavors to enjoy a bit of Long Bottom weed in his pipe despite the confounded dwarves trying to roast what appear to be HIS sausages over an open fire. Bifur seems to be attempting to cook a shoe or whatnot when Bofur tosses a sausage link to his brother, Bombur. Lovely, another ‘see fatty’ prank. In this case, it is ‘see fatty fall.’ Honestly, who enjoys that kind of base humor? See fatty catch a boiled egg tossed his way with naught but his mouth. See a table break under fatty's weight and see him fall. See fatty run. It is as crude and unintelligent as the bathroom humor which Bilbo cannot help but notice that the members of this company are rather fond of as well. 

As Bilbo harrumphs into his pipe and the dwarves settle back down from their raucous laughter at poor Bombur’s expense, Dwalin picks up the thread of poking fun at Kili again for failing to be able to distinguish between male and female elves as the lad had made clumsy overtures towards both at dinner. Bilbo is surprised at the vehemence with which the brunet archer disclaims any attraction to male elves. 

Frankly, Bilbo can scarcely tell the difference what with the total lack of facial hair of either elven sex and the rather similar dress who would be faulted for an inability to determine male from female? Kili rails against any hint of him being attracted to a male of any kind, thank you very much! The rest of the dwarves take up the hue and cry to deride the disgusting and wholly unnatural act of a male laying with another male. 

“Mahal will smash ‘em to bits if any dare try to gain entry to the Halls of Waiting.” Gloin says with finality. A chorus of “ayes” follow that pronouncement. 

“Not before I’d get a hack or two at ‘em with my axes.” Dwalin adds darkly. 

Bilbo almost swallows his pipe in dismay. In general, hobbits do not share this view. Hobbits do not care one whit what another may do in the privacy of their own bedroom. He wonders vaguely why the dwarves would. He glances around to see Thorin and Fili’s reaction, but the hobbit can see the pair are not present. 

Bilbo begins to understand Thorin and Fili’s predicament and feel sympathy for their plight. Thorin and Fili are lovers, but they do not dare express their feeling for the other openly; their culture won’t allow it. Their own kith and kin define their union as a sin so unforgivable as to be punishable by death, so they hide their secret behind a wall of silence.


	3. A thousand sentiments communicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the trek over the Misty Mountains, Bilbo rues the day he ever left his hobbit hole.

For the thousandth time, Bilbo wonders just why in this good Middle Earth he had signed that damnable contract? He and the rest of the company of Thorin Oakenshield cling to the edge of what is SUPPOSED to be a mountain pass, but really, it is just inches wide. The good hobbit thinks this is no pass -It’s a deathtrap! 

Then the thunderstorm hits. The wind drives the rain into his eyes so that he simply cannot open them, blinding him. The thunder deafens him. and his clothing is soaked through. By all the Valar, he wishes he was back in his snug, warm, and watertight hobbit hole. Just when he thinks their dire situation could not possibly get any worse, it does. Dwalin’s hoarse roar of “Look out!” makes Bilbo find the inner strength to crack his eyelids open in time to see an enormous boulder come hurdling their way. 

Bilbo snaps his eyes shut and waits to be crushed. At least it would put an end to his misery and suffering. He hears Balin shout “This is no thunder storm. It’s a thunder BATTLE!” What the fuck is a thunder battle Bilbo muses, but he refuses to open his eyes. Nope, if he was going to die on this Yavanna- forsaken mountain pass, and it was looking more and more likey that he will, he would do it with his eyes firmly closed, thank you very much. 

When the mountain or stone giant thing, whatever, breaks apart, taking him, Bombur, Fili, and some of the other dwarves with it, Bilbo does open his eyes at the stomach churning feeling of being swooped up and away. He realizes with horror that they are in fact, swept up and away from the rest of the mountain. Bilbo can see Thorin’s face, a mask of fear as half of his company is pulled away with the other side of the mountain. Bilbo had not thought it would end like this, but honestly, he had never given his own death much thought at all. 

When the loose part of the mountain, the part he and Fili are on, starts to tilt back towards the larger, stationary section on which Thorin, Kili and the other half of the company stand, Bilbo notices it begins to pick up speed as the leans increases until their part of the mountain is crashing down upon the another with terrific force. Yes, he’s a dead hobbit for sure. 

It is in this moment, when the panic and the resulting surge in adrenaline coursing through his body from his furry feet to the tips the curls on his hairy head, that time slows to a crawl. All of the company members on the falling mountainside brace themselves as the two sections of the mountain collide. 

As the small hobbit tries to shake his head clear of the haze of fear and terror and the shock of the teeth shaking impact, Bilbo hears Thorin’s drawn out call of “noooooooo!” Instantly, an anguished cry of “Kili!” follows. Now, Bilbo knows, even whilst his ears ring and his mind remains a trifle clouded from the shock, he KNOWS that Kili is perfectly safe, standing somewhere behind Thorin and is not in all likihood laying broken and bloodly, crushed to death under a ton of stone. So why the fuck should Thorin be shouting out Kili’s name? Is it out of habit? Is it another attempt to reinforce how important that particular nephew is to the would-be King Under the Mountain?

Bollocks, is the first coherent thought Bilbo has when he sees Thorin come charging around the side of the mountain along what remains of the path, eyes frantic with worry. The hobbit sees the unfettered look of relief wash over Thorin’s visage once he lays eyes on a shaken, yet despite all odds, a certain quite unharmed blonde dwarf. Thorin sags against the rock in sheer relief. Bilbo is the only witness to the few seconds of direct eye contact the dwarven king and his heir share before the others appear behind Thorin. He can see a thousand sentiments communicated in that one moment. 

Bilbo only has a second himself to enjoy the happy moment between the two lovers before he finds himself unceremoniously bumped over the edge by some passing dwarven boot. Why the fuck did I EVER leave home Bilbo thinks to himself as he hangs by his fingertips, his large furry feet dangling into nothingness.


	4. In your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dues ex machina arrive to save the dwarves. Bilbo watches Fili's anguish over whether Thorin is alive or dead post-pale orc attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have included the lyrics written and wholly owned by Peter Gabriel in this chapter. I did make one alternation to the lyrics which I noted with an *, changing the word car to cart, because car would not make sense in Middle Earth, would it. Otherwise, I have always thought of these lyrics when I see the actors who portray Thorin and Fili, look at each other.

Riding on the back of a ginormous bird, an eagle of all things, with the wind whipping his shaggy curls all about, Bilbo Baggins, hears the anguished cry of “Thorin” as it tears from the blonde dwarf’s throat. Our good hobbit can see Fili’s dark haired brother having to physically restrain him from leaping from the back of their eagle as it silently carries them through the night. Bilbo knows that the lad wants to get to the leader of their company, Thorin Oakenshield, but that said dwarf currently dangles and rather lifelessly, truth be told, from the talons of another huge eagle. 

Mr. Baggins is quite worried as by all the laws of physics, the blow delivered by the pale orc with his huge, wicked-looking mace should have taken Thorin’s head clean off. By some physic defying means, their leader is still in possession of his skull, completely intact; however, at the moment, he does not appear to be conscious. Bilbo sees the concern and heartbreak etched onto Fili’s young face, and his gut clenches at the thought of the tumble of emotional and mental agony the boy must be going through. Nothing to be done for it until the eagles land. 

Bilbo’s mind wanders to muse if eagle can see at night. He knows owls have exceptional night vision, but what about eagles? No, he remembers from his zoology classes that eagles and hawks are diurnal birds of prey. What the fuck are they doing flying at night?!? He wonders how long it will take for them to crash into an unseen mountain or some such, but the longer he ruminates, the more he thinks perhaps that since these are not one’s “normal” or the more politically correct term, “typical” eagles, that they CAN see at night. Either way, he is extremely grateful that these dues ex machina showed up when they did as the company of Thorin Oakenshield had been in rather in dire straits, indeed. 

When the eagles do land which, as it seems atop an wholly impractical, mountain peak of some kind, Gandalf revives Thorin. As the eagles take flight to leave, Bilbo wants to inquire why the hell the eagles just do not take them straight to Erebor? Honestly, if they could fly that far what is a little further for Yavanna’s sake?!?!

Before the hobbit can open his mouth to voice this completely rational question, Thorin is shouting at him and then for the love of all the Valar, hugging him. Bilbo stands stunned, getting his nose tickled by the fur of Thorin’s heavy mantle. When he is pushed back away from the bruised and bedraggled dwarf, he sees over Thorin’s shoulder, the wide grin Fili wears, his thumbs hooked on his belt, beaming his brilliant and relieved smile. 

All the dwarves stand and gawk at the Lonely Mountain where it sits proud and majestically in the distance. Again, Bilbo wonders just why on this Middle Earth the eagles could not take them closer to their destination as it is clearly in sight. Thorin stares hard into the east, then barks out instructions for the dwarves to begin their descent from the precarious perch they had been left on. 

Of course, the blonde dwarf goes to stand by his king's side but as is he usual custom, says nothing. The movement catches Bilbo’s attention, but not that of the others. The hobbit pauses, and he is the only witness to the long and lingering look shared by the would-be King Under the Mountain and his blonde Crown Prince. They do not embrace nor even touch. There is no need. Bilbo can clearly feel the heat and intensity radiating between the pair as they gaze into the other's eyes. The words of an old song pops unbidden into his head:

Love, I get so lost sometimes  
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart  
When I want to run away  
I drive off in my cart*  
But whichever way I go  
I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return  
And the grand façade, so soon will burn  
Without a noise, without my pride  
I reach out from the inside

In your eyes  
The light, they heat  
In your eyes  
I am complete  
In your eyes  
I see the doorway to a thousand churches  
In your eyes  
The resolution of all the fruitless searches  
In your eyes  
I see the light and the heat  
In your eyes  
Oh, I want to be that complete  
I want to touch the light  
The heat I see in your eyes

Love, I don’t like to see so much pain  
So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away  
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival  
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

In your eyes  
The light, they heat  
In your eyes  
I am complete  
In your eyes  
I see the doorway to a thousand churches  
In your eyes  
The resolution of all the fruitless searches  
In your eyes  
I see the light and the heat  
In your eyes  
Oh, I want to be that complete  
I want to touch the light  
The heat I see in your eyes  
In your eyes, in your eyes  
In your eyes, in your eyes  
In your eyes, in your eyes….

Embarrassed to having been an uninvited party to the pair’s intimate moment, the hobbit swivels on his thick and tough heel to give the two dwarves their privacy. He follows the other, noisy members of the company as they clamber down an innumerable number of steps from the rocky peak they currently occupy, all the while patting the new-found, precious treasure secreted away in his waistcoat pocket. 


	5. Mayhap I can do something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo takes in Beorn's house. He and the skinchanger have a little chat.

Bilbo lies on his back watching the most enormous honey bee he has ever seen fly in lazy circles around his head. He should be concerned or at least, slightly unsettled, but he isn’t. He smugly pats the pocket holding his new, special, golden ring. Nope, our good hobbit is done with worrying about the small stuff. 

Being chased by orcs, nearly eaten by cave trolls, captured by goblins- bah, child’s play! Come to think of it, he ponders why Gandalf and everyone else in the company seems to regard goblins and orcs as if they were somehow different and completely separate kinds of creatures. Bilbo had always known goblins to just be another term for orcs, right? Orc is simply the elven word for goblin. 

Thorin Oakenshield’s new sword which had been made by the high elves an age or two ago is called Orcrist, and the literal translation of the name is ‘Goblin Cleaver.’ He is not sure how or more importantly, why, those foul beings had somehow been morphed into two separate things, but again, he is just plain tired of trying to make sense of the insensible. He goes back to dozing, listening the buzzing hum of the many honey bees in their host’s abode. Ah, their host, an immense man with a head and back covered with shaggy hair who, oh as it happens, can shape shift into a bear! And not any old bear, but a truly huge bear who is not very fond of guests of any kind but has a particular dislike of dwarves. Wonderful! 

Mr. Baggins is not overly worried about their host, Beorn, eating him. Beorn seems to like hobbits well enough and keeps referring to Bilbo as ‘his bunny.’ Bilbo cannot say the same about the dwarves, though. Beorn may decide to eat all of them come night fall. Or he may be satisfied with just Bombur. Regardless, there is not a single thing in all Middle Earth Bilbo could do to stop the large man whatever he may decide to do. 

All the same, Beorn had provided the company with all the tea, cream, and delicious, dense, not-to-sweet, honey cakes that they could eat so the man is a gracious if rather scary host. The most amazing thing is his serving staff, if one could them that, which are hound dogs who can walk on two legs. When the first one had approached the table with a teapot of steaming hot tea, Dori had fallen clean off his chair is utter shock and surprise. Thankfully, the gray-haired dwarf had not upset the tray holding the tea. Once he had regained his composure, Dori had quite enjoyed the hot beverage. 

Beorn had sat next to Bilbo while the company wolfed down their food, and the two had been able to have a quiet conversation. Beorn had noticed Thorin’s pronounced limp and bruised face. Remarking on Thorin’s battered state, the skinchanger also notices the ever-present, young blonde dwarf by his side. 

“Why does the blonde boy look so anxiously at Oakenshield? And constantly stays alongside him?”

“Ah, well…Thorin Oakenshield is his uncle, you see. He is still a little shaken from recent events with the Pale Orc.”

“Azog!” Mutters Beorn.

“Um…so it would seem.” 

After several moments of silence, Beorn switches topics without any preamble. “There seems like more than just a familial connection betwixt the two.” Beorn remarks in a mild, uninterested tone. 

“Um, well…I dunno anything about that….” Bilbo stutters and trails off lamely. 

“You are a terrible liar, little bunny.” Beorn rumbles a low, deep chuckle. 

“These other fools are too busy bragging of all the gems and gold that will be theirs once they get to the Lonely Mountain to take any notice of those two, but I see.” With that the big man, taps his index finger to his right eye. 

Oh my, oh no! Bilbo thinks. What if Beorn outs Thorin and Fili right here and now? Wringing his hands, Bilbo turns to look Beorn full in the face. 

“Mr. Beorn, please, say nothing. No good will come from sharing your observations with the others. NO GOOD at all!”

“Peace, little bunny, I never had any intention of commenting on what I see. I know how intolerant dwarves can be.” He whispers darkly, casting a withering look round the table. 

The large man pulls his mouth to one side, clearly contemplating for a few moments, before he adds, “Mayhap, I can do something for them.”

“Like what?” Squeaks Bilbo, holding his breath.

“Providing them with some privacy tonight.” Beorn answer cryptically. He suddenly rises from his seat and goes to talk quietly with one of the hound dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tap, tap, tap....is anyone reading this. Aside from ThornyHedge? If not, no worries. Thorny, I hope you are still enjoying it. Again, if not, sorry! If anyone is reading, I do appreciate comments. Good or bad.


	6. Stand by me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beorn has made preparations for Thorin and Fili to have some well needed and well deserved privacy from the rest of the company. Kili has an unfortunate encounter with a rather angry cow. The dancing bears come to stand guard over Beorn's home and cottage. Thorin & FIli enjoy a quiet, restful evening alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For others unfamiliar with the story of the Hobbit, you may be rather lost with the references to hound dogs who walk on their hind legs and act as Beorn's serving staff. Or with the dancing bears on guard. If you have only seen the films, you will not know that both creatures are absolutely Tolkien canon. The bit with Thorin and Fili off by themselves is not. That is just my head-canon.

Fili helps Thorin limp into the small yet cozy cabin that the imposing skinchange ushers them into. The cabin is located a few hundred feet away from their host's home. Fili turns his head in time to witness their burglar and two hound dogs lead a huge, hairy, rust- colored cow with an enormous spread of long horns into the doorway of Beorn's large house, in effect, physically blocking the door so that the other members of the company are unable to follow their king and crown prince. 

Fili snorts in amusement as the cow has the exact same shade of red hair as Gloin and, apparently, the same temper to boot. When his brother, Kili, tries to squeeze around the cow’s rear-end to get to his kin who are walking away from the safety of Beorn’s large abode, the heifer unexpectedly swings her ample hindquarters. 

What with night falling rapidly, it is not surprising that the young dwarf had sought the comfort of his uncle and his brother’s side, but the ill-tempered cow is having none of it. The dark headed archer finds himself in the rather ignoble and inglorious position of being squished into the doorframe by the cow’s enormous arse. The boy cries out in embarrassment and abject terror, but neither Bilbo nor hounds are unable to make the cow move. 

Beorn glances over at his large, barn-like, primary residence to see that all the other dwarves are quite otherwise occupied with the attempt to prevent the shouting, and now crying youthful dwarf from the being pushed up and into the cow’s rectum. 

Beorn barks out a laugh but masks it as coughing fit so as not to upset or alert the two dwarves he is leading into the much smaller, private guest cottage he has had his staff of hound dogs prepare ahead of time. Thorin sighs out in appreciation as he scans the room with its steaming bath, fresh towels laid out, and large, soft bed, turned down with crisp, white linen sheets. 

“You will have complete privacy here tonight. There is no fear of the others making their way over once darkness falls.” Beorn says as he strides towards the door. Seeing the look of worried confusion that runs across both the older and younger dwarf’s faces, Beorn clarifies.

“Your company will be well tended to by my hounds. They will have soft hay to sleep on, but they will be unable to leave my home once my night guards arrive. Ah…here they are now.” Beorn indicts with a nod of his head outside the cabin as a line of black and brown bears amble single file from the shelter of the trees into the clearing between the two buildings. 

Thorin and Fili watch in amazement as the bears move as if in a choreographed dance into a large circle. They rise up on their hind legs and move with an almost impossible grace and agility for creatures so large and powerful. 

“Are they dancing?” Fili breaths out the question before he can stop himself. He blushes at the foolishness of his question. Not dissimilar to how he had felt immediately after he had blurted out an equally brainless question when the company had been gathered, tight as ticks, round Bilbo’s table. He could have smacked himself for uttering such a stupid thing as ‘if there is a key, there must be a door.’ Any fool would know that, right? 

Beorn laughs softly in reply. “They are dancing in a way. This is their way of starting their watch. The bears will stand guard all night and woe be the fool who ventures outside the safety of my home. Now, if you will excuse me, I would think you two would like to chance to have some peace together.”

Throwing it over his shoulder as he steps over the threshold, their host adds. “Just the two of you.” And with that, the large man pulls the wooden door firmly closed behind him.

Thorin and Fili exchange matching bewildered looks before they can hear Beorn speaking, rather loudly to be heard over the din of dwarven shouts, hound dog barks, the angry lowing of the cow, so that he may be heard to give the exact same warning he had just given Thorin and FIli. No one, absolutely no one, is to go outside now that the bears are on duty. 

Their bewilderment melts into contented happiness once they realize they have a snug, well appointed, and comfortable place to bathe, relax, sleep, and what not in complete privacy. 

As much as Fili would like Thorin to pound him into the large mattress provided for them, he knows Thorin is in desperate need of rest and recuperation, and they are both in dire need of a bath. He smiles shyly and without a word moves to undress his king and unbraid the long, dark, silver-shot hair. Thorin lets him with such a soft, tender look in his eye it makes Fili’s heart ache. 

Once they are clean and nestled in bed, they notice the windows in the roof of the cabin. They can see the almost full moon clearly. Having been well tended by Fili this evening, what with having the younger dwarf all but bathe him as one would a child and through the application of salve and bandages that were applied with a loving hand, Thorin decides to sing an ancient song that is one of his favorites. It is one that never fails to immediately bring to mind the young blonde who, at the moment, is pressing himself tightly against his side. In his wonderfully deep baritone, Thorin begins to sing his young heir and lover to sleep, holding the boy close to his chest so their heartbeats meld into one rhythm together.

 

When the night has come, and the land is dark  
And the moon is the only light we can see  
No, I won’t be afraid, no I won’t be afraid  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

So darlin’ darlin’ stand by me, oh stand now now  
Stand by me  
Oh stand, stand by me, stand by me

If the sky that we look upon  
Should tumble and fall  
And the mountain should crumble to the sea  
I won’t cry, I won’t cry, no I won’t shed a tear  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

Whenever you’re in trouble won’t you stand by me  
Oh now now stand by me  
Oh stand by me, stand by me, stand by me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics are owned and copyrighted by Ben E King from his wonderful song "Stand by Me.' I believe the lyrics are perfect for this chapter. Even with the 'and the mountain crumble to the sea' bit is an unsettling perfect fit.


	7. Sexual Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin wakes up and he needs some sexual healing.

Thorin awakens with a raging erection. Groaning at the effort, the dwarven king shifts onto his heavily bruised right side, to spoon up behind the little blonde snuggled next to him. Brushing Fili’s hair away from his neck, Thorin begins to kiss and mouth at the boy’s exposed throat and bearded jaw. 

Smiling when Fili wiggles a bit in his sleep but does not wake, Thorin continues with pressing deeper kisses into the lad’s supple, unmarred skin and running his large, rough hands over the boy’s firm, ripe backside. The would-be King Under the Mountain’s intention is clear; he means to wake his lover up so that they may engage in carnal relations despite the fact that it is still pitch dark outside and inside the small cabin.

Fili snorts in exasperation when Thorin’s ministrations finally rouse him. He tries to dissuade his uncle from his obvious goal with a sleepy plea. “You NEED to rest.”

“I NEED you.” Thorin answers, rutting lightly up against Fili so that he may feel how badly his lover’s need is.

“Ah, I see. Or rather, I feel.” Fili chuckles at his own wit. “But, honestly, you need to time to heal, love. Go to back to sleep. I’ll sort that in the morning.” A yawn nearly cracks the blonde’s face in half, and he seems to fall back asleep immediately. 

Chuffing in frustrations, the dark haired, older dwarf is not to be denied. He is hard and panting with want. He begins to sing another ancient song in hopes of goading the younger into action. 

 

Wake up, wake up, wake up  
Let’s make love tonight  
Get up, get up, get up  
‘Cause you do it right

Baby  
Baby let’s get down tonight  
Ooh

Baby, I’m hot just like an oven  
Ooh  
Baby now let’s get down tonight

Baby, I’m hot just like an oven  
I need some lovin’  
And baby, I can’t hold it much longer  
It’s getting stronger and stronger

And when I get that feeling  
I want sexual healing  
Sexual healing, oh baby  
Makes me feel so fine  
Helps to relieve my mind  
Sexual healing baby, is good for me  
Sexual healing is something that is good for me

Baby, I’m hot just like an oven  
I need some lovin’  
And baby, I can’t hold it much longer  
It’s getting stronger and stronger

Baby, I got sick this mornin’  
A sea was stormin’ inside of me  
Baby, I think I’m capsizing  
The waves are risin’ and risin’

And when I get that feeling  
I want sexual healing  
Sexual healing is good for me  
Makes me feel so fine, it’s such a rush  
Helps to relieve the mind, and it’s good for us

Sexual healing, baby, it’s good for me  
Sexual healing is something that’s good for me

You’re my medicine, open up and let me in  
Darlin’, you’re so great, I can’t wait for you to operate  
You’re my medicine, open up and let me in  
Darlin’, you’re so great, I can’t wait for you to operate

Baby, open up and let me in  
It’s getting stronger and stronger  
Baby, open up and let me in  
I can’t wait for you to operate  
I can’t wait for you to operate  
I can’t wait for you to operate, baby  
I can’t wait for you to operate  
Baby, open up and let me in  
I can’t wait for you to operate

 

“Mahal’s bloody ball hairs, are you goin’ sing that all night?” Fili demands indignant but importantly, now fully awake. 

Thorin clears his throat to sing the chorus again.

“Enough!” The blonde barks and sits up suddenly. “Lie back, you horned up old ram.” 

‘Wha…” Thorin is rather shocked at his heir’s display of temper. 

“You want me ‘to operate’? “ Fili hisses. “Well, lie back so I can get to it.” The boy’s tone softens and he gently pushes on Thorin’s extremely sore shoulder to lay him flat on his back.

Thorin’s eyes widen in shock and surprise at the implication for his lover’s words. Does Fili mean to take him? Thorin has never been bottomed before and sure as shit does not want to do so now. He tells Fili so in no uncertain terms. 

“Would you shut up for once?” Fili grouses, but in a good naturedly, teasing tone. “I’m goin’ to ride you. Does that suite you, my lord?” 

“Oh, aye! Indeed! Very much, lad!” Thorin breathes out in relief. He pushes his sleeping trousers down past his hips bones so that his hot and heavy erection springs out, already pulsing and leaking from the tip. He palms his shaft and waggles it a bit at his lover, a slightly desperate look of need washes over his regal features. 

“The hobbit is right, you really are insufferable sometimes.” Fili huffs in a put-upon voice, but the sight of his uncle, his king, and his lover so painfully stiff and eager for his touch stirs something deep within the young dwarf. His own thick shaft twitches and begins to fill with hot blood. 

“I will give you some sexual healing, Thorin. Just lie back and enjoy.” 

Thorin’s only response is a deep throated groan of anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used here are owned and copyrighted by Mavin Gaye in his song, Sexual Healing.


	8. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili shows off his own singing and dancing skills much to the shock and chagrin of his brother, but his nemesis, the rust colored, long haired cow keeps the archer from joining his brother and uncle in their little, private cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to another writer who it seems may have really liked my idea of having Thorin singing to his young lover. Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, right? It gave me the idea for this ridiculous chapter.

By the time the blonde son of Durin awakens the next morning, the day is well underway. Fili catches the whiff of fresh coffee. He hopes their host’s hounds have left he and Thorin coffee with more of Beorn’s delicious honey cakes. Slipping out from under Thorin’s heavy arm so as not to rouse his uncle, Fili dons a clean pair of breeches and a simple tunic. He steps barefoot out onto the porch that runs the length of their small cabin. 

Apparently, their mid-night romp had left the pair exhausted as when Fili steps out of the cabin, he can feel the sun’s rays, bright and hot on his skin. He hears the sound of someone splitting wood a ways off. Mahal bless Beorn, as there is steaming hot coffee in an insulated pot with cream, berries, and a pile of the dense, honey cakes next to it. He pours himself a mug and leans against the high railing of the porch. 

The only thing to mar this perfect scene is the immense, long haired, red cow who is laying down to chew her cud before the steps leading up to the cabin. The heifer seems to be none the worse for wear from her encounter yesterday with his brother, Kili. 

As if thinking about his brother, somehow conjures his actual presence, Kili appears from around the far side of Beorn’s house. Fili almosts drops his coffee mug in surprise. Kili has on clothing that Fili has never seen him wear before with boots on his feet that will give Thorin more gray hairs when he sees them. 

“Uh…uhmmm…Kili? What are you wearing?” The blonde calls softly to his brunet sibling. He does not want to wake Thorin. 

Spinning in a circle, Kili models his new look. Fili cannot help but admire his brother’s agility. Kili is a fantastic dancer, and Fili has always been a little jealous of the fact. 

“Like it?” Kili asks. When he moves towards the cabin, the cow stops peacefully chewing her cud and stares hard at the approaching dwarf. 

“Damn cow.” Kili mutters darkly and his brows lower menacingly. Another thing Fili is extremely jealous of is Kili’s brows and his brother’s ability to go from a brilliant, happy smiling face to an expression that would frighten Durin’s bane itself. Fili had accepted long ago that he would never possess great dance moves nor extreme facial expressions, and he had learned not to begrudge his brother them. The liquid, brown eyed, doe look that Kili uses with great success IS something Fili wishes he could master, but his pride inhibits him for trying to get out of trouble or punishments by using his pretty, blue eyes. 

Kili stops and glares right back at the cow, Fili clears his throat. He does not feel like having to save his brother from some errant and enraged bovine this early in the morning as he had not yet had his first cup of coffee for Mahal’s sake!

“Kili, why are you wearing purple clothing? And where did you get it? Please put your own boots on before Uncle sees you in those….”

“Heels, they are called heels. High heels.” Kili says smugly, lifting one foot to twirl his ankle round for his brother to get a good look at his new footwear. 

“I see. Could you answer my question of why are you wearing them and where did you get them? Did Beorn give them to you?” 

Snorting loudly in disdain, Kili answers. “No, no…I got them from Rivendell.” 

“You stole them?” 

“Not exactly.” Kili hedges. 

Not that Fili gives a shit if Kili had pinched a few items of the elves' ridiculous clothing, but Thorin will. Assuredly. 

To change the subject from the how and why he had obtained his new outfit, Kili says. “I heard Thorin singing last night.” 

Fili freezes with the hot coffee at his lips. He tries and fails for mildly disinterested. 

“Really?” He squeaks. 

“Oh, aye! 'Stand by me' is one of my favorite oldies.” 

“How about the other one?” 

“Which other one?” 

At Kili’s answer, Fili relaxes slightly. Kili had heard Thorin singing 'Stand by Me', but not 'Sexual Healing', thank Mahal and his hammer for that fact the blonde thinks, feeling the relief course through his body. 

As it looks like Fili will not answer his last question, Kili plows ahead. “I wanted to see you, you and Thorin both, I have some lyrics I wrote…” And with that the young dwarf breaks out into song:  


“I’m not a woman  
I’m not a man  
I am something that you’ll never understand  
I’ll never beat you  
I’ll never lie  
And when you’re evil  
I’ll forgive you by and by  
YOU, I would die for you  
Baby, if you want me to  
YOU, I would die for you”

Fili stares open mouthed, simply agog at his younger brother as he twirls, swiveling his hips and in general, gyrating his entire body in perfect time with the of cadence of his song. When Kili drops into a full spilt, Fili drops his cup of coffee. 

With his usually regal and majestic hair tangled and amuss, Thorin sticks his head out of the door of the cabin to see what all the clatter is about. 

“What the fuck is your brother doing? Where did he find that get-up? Is he having some kind of seizure?” Before Thorin can continue his rapid- fire questioning. Kili springs back to his feet and resumes his singing and dancing, prancing about. 

“You’re just a sinner I am told  
Be your fire when you’re cold  
Make you happy when you’re sad  
Make you good when you are bad  
I’m not a human  
I’m a dove  
I’m your conscious  
I am love  
All I really need is to know that  
You believe

Yeah, I would die for you, yeah  
Darling, if you want me to  
You, I would die for you”

“What the fuck is he going on about?’ Thorin turns and demands of Fili. All Fili can do is shrug weakly. 

“Well, he is going to hurt himself if he keeps this shit up.” Growls Thorin while he pours himself a mug of coffee. 

“Kili! Lad! Stop…stop!” He calls out to his youngest sister son.

“Did you like it, Thorin?”

“Of course, of course. You’re very talented. But, I must ask, why are you singing about dying?”

“Cause, I would die for you, uncle. For you, Fili, for anyone I love.” Kili pronounces proudly, puffing out his heaving chest.

“Lad,” Thorin sighs. “The last thing I would EVER want is for you to do is to die for me. I love you as I would a son. I would much rather have you live.” 

Tugging on a stray, purple thread from his sleeve, Kili pouts and softens his brown eyes into his best puppy dog look. “But uncle…to be willing to die for someone means you love them, right?” 

“Hardly, lad, hardly.” The older dwarf chuckles at the absurd notion. "There are things to die for, but I would much rather see you live to old age, Kili.” Thorin gazes at his nephew fondly. The boy is immature for his age, but he is so adorable that most forgive him his thoughtlessness and recklessness. 

“That damn cow won’t let me any closer.” Kili pouts and points an accusing finger at said cow. 

“Never mind…go rest and refresh. Eat your fill of cream and honey. We’ll be heading out as soon as we have had a few days to rest and recuperate. “

“I want to join you and Fili.” The younger dwarf wheedles. 

“No need to rile up our host’s livestock for naught, lad. I, for one, will be headed back to bed shortly.” 

Fili, who had remained silent during Thorin’s and Kili’s exchange, glances over at his uncle. 

Kili opens his mouth to argue, but Thorin grabs a couple honey cakes, stuffs one in his mouth, and disappears back into the dimness within the cabin. When Kili looks pleadingly to his brother, Fili shrugs helplessly and gestures toward the cow. The blonde quickly follows his uncle into the cabin. 

Thorin quickly closes the door before his other nephew can voice any more protests. He gathers the much smaller blonde into his arms. Thorin has to take a few moments to chew and swallow before he presses a soft kiss onto Fii’s mouth. 

“I do NOT love you as I would a son.” He smirks. 

“I would certainly hope not.” Fili retorts. Opening his lips for Thorin’s next kiss so that their tongues slide gently together and intertwine. When they break apart, Fili comments. “I suppose Kili was just trying to impress you. He had heard you singing ‘Stand by me' last night. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, is it not? 

Thorin digests that news a moment before he begins in a low octave:

“Baby, when I think about you  
I think about love  
Darling, if I had to live without you  
I’d live without love…  
Feel like making love”

‘Oh, for the love of Mahal, would you stop with the singing? I’ve heard quite enough for one day.” Fili smiles. “Let’s get to the you 'making love to me’ bit?”

Chuckling, Thorin agrees. “I’ll see to it immediately, lad.” He picks up the young blonde and carries him back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two, yes, two songs quoted here. The first is 'I would die 4 u' by the Prince. If you have ever seen the movie 'Purple Rain', you will get the reference I make to Kili's 'borrowed' elven clothing and footwear and his dance moves. The other song I quote is Bad Company's 'Feel Like Making Love.' I swear, I will get back to writing without some character breaking into song, but if you have ever read Tolkien's works, you know, he often has characters, many different characters, break into song.


	9. Unbothered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo goes to find Thorin and Fili.

After two days, Bilbo had had his fill of milk and honey in the home of the skinchanger, Beorn. He is rather surprised as our good hobbit LOVES milk, honey, and cake, but being cooped up with eleven dwarves who seem to have a total and complete aversion to bathing, and a wizard who goes about aimlessly, puffing on his pipe constantly and muttering under his breath to only Yavanna knows who, most likely himself, but still! Honestly, betwixt the hazy pipe smoke and the stench of long unwashed dwarf, our little, furry footed hero is at his wit’s end. 

Escaping the various noxious odors of their host’s large home/barn abode, Bilbo wanders across the green lawn towards the much smaller structure which the leader of this merry company of fuckwits currently occupies. There are now two, massive bovines, both sporting a huge spread of horns and a great deal of long, reddish fur, standing guard. Well, the cows are laying down, but are quite clearly on guard, as they have done a fantastic job of keeping the other members of the company out of the small cottage where their king and his heir have spent the past two days. 

The cows allow Bilbo access onto the porch of the small cabin. He pauses for several long moments, listening with his keen hobbit ears for any sounds of heavy breathing, moaning, or rhythmic knocking/bumping sounds coming from within. He hears none and decides to knock on the wooden door. 

A very relaxed and contented, dark haired dwarf pulls open the door, dressed in clean tunic and loose trousers. Startled, Bilbo realizes it is Thorin Oakenshield, the usually grumpy, splenetic, and tetchy dwarf stands before him with his long hair unbraided and unadorned and his body unburdened from the heavy armor, fur lined mantle, and thick leather vambraces he normally wears. The would-be King Under the Mountain looks at least fifty years younger than his one hundred and ninety-five. 

Thorin steps back and beckons the hobbit to enter. Bilbo almost faints as he notices a small smile graces across the dwarf’s lips. 

Blinking rapidly to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the dimness of the shuttered cabin, Bilbo spies Fili sound asleep in the large bed. His hair, also unbraided, is fanned out like a halo of thick waves around his head and his face relaxed in slumber makes the blonde look more like a child than the eighty-two year warrior that he is. Goodness, but the boy looks so young, too young for a dwarf over a century his senior Bilbo cannot help but think. 

“Uh…I’m not interrupting, am I?” Bilbo blurts out, hurriedly. 

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Mr. Baggins. What do you think we’d be doing?” Thorin asks mildly. 

The blush that runs up Bilbo neck to stain his face a bright pink, is answer enough as he sputters helplessly. 

The powerfully built dwarf tilts his chin up and turns his head a touch, a few millimeters, to look just the slightest bit cross ways at the blushing and stammering hobbit. He stares hard at poor Bilbo.

“We had gathered from what Beorn said that you were…unbothered….by what I do with Fili. What we do together. Perhaps our host is mistaken…” 

“No!” Bilbo practically shouts then drops his voice so as to not waken Fili. “No…I am unbothered, totally unbothered by what two consenting adults choose to do. Of course, I am unbothered.” The hobbit huffs in annoyance. “Honestly, how anyone else would presume to have ANY say in what two grown adults do or not do is really beyond me. But.” Here Bilbo stressed the word one. “But I have…heard the other dwarves speak...speak very plainly about…” Here Bilbo waves a hand at Fili's sleeping form. “About being rather bothered, a lot it would seem, by the thought of two males….consorting.” 

“Did he just refer to me as your consort?” Fili asks, yawning and rolling over to face the pair. 

“Aye, I believe, he did.” Thorin answers laconically as the dwarf’s eyes had softened and his stance had become less rigid. Clearly, Thorin is no longer worried about his and Fili’s secret being known to the company’s burglar. 

“Oh dear me….I did not mean…I did NOT mean it THAT way!” Bilbo defends himself. “And to answer your original question, Thorin, I did…assist with, or at least, I did not hinder, Beorn from arranging for you two to share this cabin ALL BY YOURSELVES. Far away from the body odor of your fellow dwarves and the pipe smoke and constant muttering for that damn wizard…”

“Does Kili still have on that purple get up?” 

“Well, at least the purple outfit is CLEAN and fresh smelling” Bilbo barks. “That is surely more than I can say for some of the others’ attire”

“Fair point, Mr. Baggins. Fair point.” Thorin replies, smiling. He gestures for Bilbo to take a seat in one of the two large, comfortable, over stuffed arm chairs. Once Bilbo is seated, Thorin hands him a cup of tea and seats himself in the other chair. Fili gets himself and Thorin their own large cup of tea which they share, and the blonde eases himself onto Thorin’s lap. The trio spend a pleasant afternoon passing the time chatting about many various and sundry topics. 

Hours later, when Bilbo goes to leave, he would have never, not in an elf’s life span, no not ever would he have predicted what would happen once the company leaves the safety and comfort of Beorn’s home and lands. Gandalf deserting them, the damnedable spiders and other foul creatures of Mirkwood, Mirkwood in general, our good hobbit would find bad enough. But having to watch that which would befall Thorin and tear asunder the bond between the dwarven king and his young heir, would be, by far the worst of the events the hobbit would have to witness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still love comments if anyone has any. Good or bad, as long as they are constructive.


	10. This goes out to the one I love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo watches as Thorin shows the first signs of dragon sickness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long hiatus from this story. I have been a tad overwhelmed, what with a heavy work load, family vacations, and my children's sports tournaments, I have simply not had the time to write. It always feels good to get back to writing. Readers will notice that I switched the barrel scene back to what Tolkien actually wrote. I did include Kili getting injured and getting left behind in Esgaroth, aka Laketown, but not due to the ridiculous notion of a 'morgul arrow', etc, etc for the simple reason that I found how PJ and co chose to depict the escape from Mirkwood as juvenile and downright stupid.

As the borrowed Esgarothain barge departs the dock, seven of nine members of the company of Thorin Oakenshield aboard, row steadily to cross the large lake in all haste. The dwarves are keen to get to Lonely Mountain as quickly as possible. The last day of autumn, Durin’s Day, is rapidly approaching, evidenced by the formation of ice along edges of the massive lake. If they are to find the hidden door in the stone mountainside where the gray thrush knocks so that the last light of Durin’s Day can shine upon the keyhole, they MUST be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. 

The two company members not rowing are Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield himself. The former sits staring forlornly and disbelieving at the latter as dwarf stares resolutely ahead toward the looming mountain and sings softly. 

“This one goes out to the one I love  
This one goes out to the one I left behind me…”

The next line is muddled, the word order confusing, and it is at such a juxtaposition to the other lines in the song, that true sentiment of the song is usually missed, and most who listen to the song believe it about a deep, profound love. 

The hobbit hears Gloin chuckle to himself. “Thorin is singing about Kili.”

“Aye, he really loves that lad, doesn’t he.” Dwalin adds. It is not asked as a question but stated as an indisputable fact. 

“Everyone does.” Another statement of unquestioned fact. Nori smiles, his grin rather toothy and wolf-ish. Bilbo had always found that Nori reminded him of a fox, what with his sharp, rather pointed face. It could have been the hair style as well, two of the three points of his ridiculous hairstyle could almost be mistaken for fox ears in the right light, from the right angle. 

“He couldn’t love that boy more if he were his own son.” Balin remarks with a heavy sigh. “ I know it is tearing him up to leave him behind. I hope Kili recovers quickly and is able to join us soon.” 

Bilbo is as fond the young dwarf as much as the next, but he knows, he KNOWS with all his heart that the one to whom the leader of their company sings. He knows it is not Kili Thorin is referring to. 

Bilbo knows the lyrics in their entirety. Bilbo knows it is NOT a song about love. He KNOWS it NOT about the dark haired archer. Listening to Thorin say the words aloud rents his heart. 

“This one goes out to the one I love  
This one goes out to the one I left behind me  
A simple prop to occupy my time  
This one goes out to the one I love  
Fire”

Since Thorin is singing the third line of this simple song accurately, it must mean that he does know the true, hurtful intent of the song. It is not a love song, but a snide rebuke to the one fool or naïve enough to believe in the false promises of deep feelings of love. 

Bilbo must face the fact that there has been a profound shift, an unmistakable change in Thorin Oakenshield since they had their inglorious arrival in Esgaroth. Thorin had changed and definitely, not for the better. Thorin had just left his two sister sons, his two heirs on the dock of Esgaroth in a city of men. 

Kili had been injured in the barrel ride during their nighttime escape from Mirkwood while all the elves celebrated their most important high day, the Festival of Starlight. Since anyone with an ounce of functioning brain matter would know that an unsealed barrel set afloat would inevitably get swamped with water and sink like a stone, Bilbo had ensured that all the dwarves had been placed in water tight barrels full of straw so they might be as comfortable as possible. 

Apparently, Kili’s barrel had some sort of large, wooden splinter on the inside which had gouged the poor lad in the thigh during the white water portion of their river journey. It was an ugly wound to be sure so when Thorin had dismissed it as a scratch, Bilbo had found that markedly different from the usual overt care and concern the dwarven king normally showered on his youngest nephew.

To be fair, Bilbo reasons the only option Thorin had regarding Kili was to leave him behind so that the deep puncture wound in his thigh could be treated and hopefully heal quickly. With his youthful ignorance and arrogance, Kili had not sought out Oin in the few days that the company had had to enjoy the hospitality of the men of Esgaroth. No, the foolish youth had pretended that his injury was not getting worse by the day, but Thorin had seen him limping on the dock.

As any reasonable leader would, Thorin had made the command decision that the able members of the company would continue on the quest that they had set out on months earlier and proceed to gain access to Erebor through the secret door. He had let Oin stay in Esgaroth with his wounded sister son and the hung over Bofur so that the two could rest and recover. Thorn had even bestowed the smile he reserves exclusively for his dark haired nephew and had pressed his forehead gently to Kili’s. 

However, what had happened between Thorin and Fili had been quite different. When Kili’s sullen protestations had fallen on deaf ears and had not swayed their uncle, Fili had come to his younger brother’s defense. The heated exchange between Thorin and Fili still rings in the hobbit’s ears:

“I’ll carry him if I must!” 

“You belong with the company, Fili. One day you will be king, and you will understand.” 

“I belong with my brother.”

 

The cold, disdainful way Thorin had glared at Fili, his secret, silent lover when the boy had defied his uncle’s wishes and had disembarked from the barge to stand defiantly by his brother’s side had chilled Bilbo’s heart. When Thorin had sneered at the young blonde on the dock before turning away and ordering the boat to be launched, Bilbo could almost hear the words in his head of the song Thorin is currently singing. 

“This one goes out to the one I love  
This one goes out to the one I left, behind me  
A simple prop to occupy my time  
This one goes out to the one I love.”

It breaks the hobbit’s heart because he KNOWS, he had been witness, the only witness to the bond Thorin and Fili share but now? Now, Thorin is singing in his glorious baritone that the blonde had been nothing more than a distraction? That he had meant nothing to Thorin? That he had been just a trifle to occupy his uncle’s time before he reclaimed his lost homeland? Yes, hearing Thorin sing that song breaks Bilbo’s heart. 

Bilbo’s heart brings to break because he knows a more powerful love/lust is overtaking Thorin’s heart and mind, pushing aside the love he holds for Fili. Gold lust and dragon sickness has taken root in the mighty Thorin Oakenshield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics are from the REM song, The One I Love. I had attended the same University were that particular band had been formed a decade prior. The members of that band still lived in the same city when I attended University. The lead singer always marveled that most folks thought this specific song was a love song.
> 
> Anyway, I love to hear comments... you know, in case the urge hits you to say something encouraging or some constructive criticism.


	11. All the wrath and fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili meets Bard and has a conversation with the gray thrush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a combination, a mash-up if you will, of how events transpired in the book and the movie. A little of both. Hopefully, the best bits.

Fili tries to ignore the churning, burning, and roiling of his gut. Despite Oin’s desperate cry of “we’re losing him!”, the blonde knows very well that while his brother may be in a great deal of pain, one does not simply go from walking and talking only scant hours earlier to succumbing to infection or a morgul blade or whatnot. He rolls his blue eyes at the self-manufactured drama that seems to constantly swirl about Kili. 

Honestly, Fili is grateful for it. The hubbub his brother causes usually allows him and Thorin a private moment or two, and now, it distracts the blonde from remembering the terrible coldness in his uncle’s eyes on the dockside. Even though Fili had been steadfast in the absolute rightness of his actions by choosing to stay behind with his brother, the tense and terse exchange between he and Thorin had unsettled him deeply. The look in Thorin’s blue eyes had been unlike any other Fili had ever seen. Just thinking about it leaves a heavy, cold weight sitting in his belly. 

No, no, Fili chides himself. It was just a put on, just an act on the part of their uncle. If Fili is sure of Thorin’s love for him, he is doubly sure of Thorin’s love for Kili. Fili has had several decades to learn the subtle unspoken clues of what Thorin truly wants versus what he says, and Fili reasons their uncle had acted in a manner to keep his beloved nephew safe instead of dragging him with an infected leg wound into a desolate landscape or worse, a potentially deadly confrontation with a dragon. 

Thorin was not necessarily wrong in ordering Kili to remain in Esgaroth so that he could heal from his thigh wound. While Kili had been bemoaning their uncle’s utter betrayal of him for the past several hours, Fili had run through the various options open to the leader of their company or any leader for that matter, in such a situation: a wounded member would very much be in mortal danger on the side of a bleak, barren and dragon-ravaged mountainside with little or no medical assistance. Added to that, how in all of Middle Earth could the company NOT make for the mountain? Were they to wait another entire year for next year’s Durin Day to find the key hole to the secret door? Hardly.

At least in Esgaroth, Kili would have shelter, plenty of food and medical supplies as the Master of Esgaroth had been very keen to offer the dwarves ample resource once he had learned that Thorin would repay him in spades from the riches held within Erebor. Esgaroth may be little more than a gloried fishing village, but the residents are hardly starving or as miserable as some may have assumed. The Master is greedy and skims more than a little from the town’s coffers, but he is not an unreasonable tyrant. Unreasonable tyrants do not stay in power long without an iron fisted control of a large, heavily- armed and loyal military, and Esgaroth has no such army. Just a militia. One member of said militia is a stern and dour faced archer named Bard with little loyalty to the Master and no time for nonsense. While one would assume Bard to be capable with managing a wide range of water crafts, as the man had lived his entire life on a lakeside, he is no bargeman; however, he is a bowman of great renown.

After Oin and Kili had composed themselves enough once the medicinal herbs had begun to work so that Kili was no longer in a great pain from his leg wound and the infection was flagging, Fili slips away to return to the dock to smoke to settle his jangled nerves and to sort his jumbled emotions. There, he finds the tall, dark headed man, Bard, already smoking, leaning against a pylon and staring morosely across the lake at the Lonely Mountain as it is bathed in the golden light of early evening. Twilight will soon be upon them. The young, blonde dwarf fervently hopes the company gains access to the mountain and finds the dragon either dead or departed. In the event that Smaug is still alive and kicking within the mountain, Fili fervently prays that that their burglar, Mr. Baggins of Bag End, is as superbly capable of a burglar as the gray wizard had made him out to be. He prays that the Arkenstone may be retrieved quickly and quietly. 

Fili wishes that Gandalf was here himself, the damn meddling wizard. It is not just like a wizard to get you caught up in a fine mess, leagues and leagues away from home or any kin and then LEAVE? Just LEAVE on some MORE IMPORTANT errand? When Gandalf had informed the company just outside the borders of Mirkwook, that he had to depart for matters of greater import, Fili had thought Thorin would try to choke the old wizard right there on the spot. 

The sun had set but full darkness had not yet enveloped the land and lake. The young dwarf had been so caught up in hoping and praying, he misses the first several words Bard speaks in a low tone.

“I beg your pardon, I did not catch that, Mr….”

“The name’s Bard.” 

“I apologize Mr Bard, what was that you were saying?” Fili repeats, trying his best to imitate how Mr. Balin speaks to men. 

“I said…that naught but death and destruction will come from going into that mountain.” 

“Oh…” Fili breathes out in dismay. Frankly, he is at a total loss for what to say to that rather cheerless and pessimistic pronouncement. As he struggles to think up a diplomatic response, a gray thrush flits out of the semi-darkness to chatter frantically at Bard. 

Bard stares dumbfounded from the bird to Fili and back again. As with ravens, some dwarves are quite proficient with the dialects of various birds. Fili happens to be one of them. He can make out some of what the bird is saying.

“A patch, a missing patch?” Fili cocks his head to listen more intently at the thrush. “Yes, a missing patch in the armor…whose armor?” 

“Are you talking to that bird?” 

Fili waves a hand at Bard to silence him without taking his eyes off the bird. “The dragon’s armor! By my beard, the dragon IS in the mountain?!”

“Told you naught but death….” Bard says darkly. Fili shots him a withering look and turns his attention back to the bird. 

“The barrel rider told you about the missing section in the dragon’s armored chest plate... Who the fuck is the barrel rider?” Fili barks in frustration. More twittering and a lot of wing flapping later. “The furry footed barrel rider…Bilbo? Bilbo told you!” Fili crows in delight. He was getting somewhere now. 

His delight suddenly turns to trepidation when there a loud crashing sound came from across the lake as if a good portion of the mountain had just collapsed. Trepidation morphs into terror when Fili sees the lights of Esgaroth glinting off a million reflective points of a fast moving shape and a hot, dry wind blows into his face. Smaug! Smaug! Smaug the Golden descends upon Esgaroth with all the wrath and fury an enraged dragon can bring to bear!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, at least no singing in this one, right?


	12. Bilbo's blood runs cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile on back in Erebor, Bilbo and the other dwarves ponder the fate of their kith and kin down in Esgaroth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter without singing? Yes! But there will be more...just fair warning.

Meanwhile, in Erebor, Bilbo stares over a stone parapet. He struggles to recover his senses and tame the adrenaline still coursing through his hobbit body. Bilbo Baggins, quiet, respectable hobbit from Bag End in the Shire, had CONVERSED with a dragon! Never in his wildest imaginings whilst reading his many books and pouring over his many maps, would our good hobbit had EVER thought he, HE, would confront a dragon! And carry on a pointed and probing conversation with the beast in its own lair and hold his own!! Well, until, the blasted dragon had decided to vent his anger and get vengeance from the poor sods down in Esgaroth! 

Well, it had not turned out exactly the way as it had been planned, you understand. That damn meddling wizard, Gandalf the Grey, was MEANT to be there when the dwarves entered the Lonely Mountain. Did he show up as promised? No, he bloody did not! That left poor Bilbo and the very- eager-to-get-to-their treasure dwarves to blunder forth without the guidance of the Yavanna-damned person who had roped them into this blasted adventure in the first place! 

Honestly, Bilbo stews as he reins in his various and conflicting emotions. I will give that confounded wizard a piece of my mind when next I see him, the hobbit thinks to himself, but for the moment, he is simply too wrung out, both mentally and physically exhausted from the day’s events to contemplate vengeance on Gandalf right now. Later…definitely later, Bilbo plans to beat that grey wizard with a rock-filled sock about his shaggy, grey head.

Presently, Bilbo is far more concerned about the innocent people of Esgaroth, the flaming state of their homes, their businesses, their town and the fate of a certain four dwarves. Gloin, Bifur, Bombur, Balin, and Dwalin come to stand next to him and gaze forlornly down at the burning town on the lake. The Ri brothers wander over to stand next to their comrades in silence. Balin speaks for all of them.

“Poor folk…” It is rather a massive understatement, but Bilbo has grown accustomed to the dwarven manner of understating the terrible, the terrifying, the gruesome, etc, etc . 

“Poor bastards.” Balin’s brother adds. 

“Do you think that…” Gloin breaks off with the pretense of clearing his throat, but Bilbo knows better. The red headed dwarf tries again. “Do you think they survived?” There is no need to identify the ‘they’ to whom he is referring. 

“They are Durin’s folk, they well know the wroth of dragon fire and have survived it before.” Balin attempts to say with utter conviction but the tremble in his voice and hands tells a different tale. 

Dwalin puts a hand to his cousin, Gloin’s shoulder and another to Bombur’s. “They will endure…they’re DWARVES. They will be here shortly. You’ll see.” 

Bilbo is shocked at the tall, rather menacing dwarf’s tender touch. Bilbo would have never guessed it would be Dwalin out of the entire company to give comfort and support to those in need, but the warrior’s words have the desired effect. Gloin and Bombur both clasp their chubby, thick fingered hands over Dwalin’s and squeeze. 

“Aye, we will.” They both reply with new found resolution and resolve. The rest of the dwarves release some pent up anxiety and give off a raucous cheer and call down to Esgaroth from the ramparts of Erebor.

“Get up here you drunken, crazy-hatted fool!” Nori shouts. 

“Get yer hand out from under that lass’s skirt and find a boat!” Dwalin roars. 

“Put down your ear trumpet and row!” Ori adds, looking around and grinning broadly at his older companions. 

Bilbo smiles despite himself. It would seem the company of Thorin Oakenshield would not fall into despair so quickly after all. But his smile fades when he realizes the absence of one dwarf. 

Thorin had watched the dragon fall away with the rest of them. He had given out a mighty bellow of joy when the fire drake tumbled out of the sky, but he had not joined them to peer down over the parapet. Bilbo slips away to see if Thorin is grieving in private, but instead of worries, hand wringing, and fears and tears for his kin, Bilbo finds Thorin knee deep in glittering treasure. The new King Under the Mountain rejoices in the treasury, letting the gold coins spill through his fingers, obviously without a single thought of the tragedy that had just befallen the citizens of Esgaroth nor to the fate his missing sister sons. Bilbo’s blood runs cold at the sight.


	13. Thoughts of the fate on the one he loves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili, Bofur, and Oin row to get across the lake to the Lonely Mountain as soon as possible. Fili worries about the fate of the other members of company. He prays that they have survived Smaug's wroth.

Fili rows with all his might. He glances over his shoulder to see his brother, hands hanging limply at his side, staring back at the lakeshore at only Mahal knew what. 

“Row, Kili!” The blonde barks to his brother. Hazarding another backward glance, Fili sees that Kili has not budged. Bofur, sweating because he is stroking as hard as the blonde is, coughs to get Fili’s attention. 

“He gave some elf his rune stone.” 

“He what?”

“Gave. His. Runestone. To. Some. Elf” Bofur repeats as if to a halfwit. 

“Runestone? What elf?”

“You know, the runestones your mother gave you afore you left Ered Luin?” Bofur pants with the effort of pulling his oar through the choppy water and speaking loud enough for Fili to hear. 

At Fili’s tight-lipped grimace, Bofur surmises correctly that the Lady Dis had only given one son a token before the pair had departed the Blue Mountains. The miner attempts to hedge his previous remark.

“Maybe his sweetheart had given him that runestone…that says ‘return to me’…”

“Nay.” Fili replies tersely, cutting off Bofur’s bumbling comment. Their mother, Dis, had bestowed a loving gift to her youngest son so that he may temper his recklessness and make it back home one day. The only thing Dis had given to Fili had been a stern command to watch over his brother. Not that any of this comes as a surprise to Fili. The blonde has long known who is the favored son in their household. So be it. But what of an elf in Esgorath? When? Why would Kili give him his mother’s runestone for pity’s sake? 

“What elf?” He bites out in between oar strokes. 

Bofur brightens at the change of subject from the Lady Dis’s uneven affection for her sons and responds happily. “A she elf showed up. Poof! Outta nowhere. Starts chanting over Kili as he lay with his head on a basket of walnuts.”

“Walnuts? Wait, wait…” Fili needs to ensure he is getting the whole story. And getting that out of Bofur will take precise questioning. “Kili was doing fine when I left to go smoke. You had gotten the athelas and Oin had applied it to Kili’s leg. So where did some elf come from? A female elf? How could you tell? No matter, a female elf shows up after I leave and does what exactly?” 

“Grabbed the last of the athelas from Oin’s hand, mashed it all up in her hands, and then she chanted over him. And get this…she started glowing!” 

“Glowing?” Fili repeats. 

“Oin said she was healing him!” Bofur nods his head vigorously. “He said we should be grateful to be the presence of elven magic healing. The captain of the guard of Mirkwood showed up while you were off smoking to heal our beloved prince. You missed it.” The miner sniffs dismissively at the blonde laboring beside him at the prow of their small craft. “You didn’t see her on the lakeshore?” 

“An elven captain of the guard shows up from Mirkwood? To do what exactly? Drag us back to their dungeons? Some captain of the guard that allowed us to escape in the dead of night in the first place. Where was she when the damn dragon was attacking?” Fili demands. The blonde thinks about asking Oin for his version of events, but Fili knows trying to talk to Oin without his ear trumpet is a rather useless endeavor. 

“Apparently, she and your brother had grown rather close during our stay in Mirkwood.” Bofur shoots back, defensively. 

Fili not wanting to argue but to make it to Erebor as soon as possible, stops talking and redoubles his effort and focus on rowing. His brother is still not contributing to the collective effort, and what with both Bofur and Oin rowing on the opposite side of the boat, Fili must work twice as hard to keep the craft going straight. 

“I see.” He replies to the miner and bends his head to concentrate on rowing, sweat running in rivulets down his neck and back. He does not see but does not what to waste any more mental or physical effort on trying to unravel the mystery elf and her sudden appearance, much less what her relationship if any with his brother is. It is really none of his business. 

They row for hours to cross the large lake, trek up the mountainside for more long hours. Fili leads the way with Bofur and Oin complaining bitterly behind him about the relentless pace. Kili lags behind and remains mutinously sullen, but thankfully, silent as the blonde pushes on ahead, determined to get to Erebor with all possible speed. 

Fili’s concern is multi factorial. First, he doesn’t like to consider their chances if the group fails to make to the mountain’s entrance by full dark. There is no telling what sort of foul beast roams the dragon- ravished landscape at night. Secondly, he worries over the fate of the other members of the company. Did they survive the dragon’s wroth? Did Thorin? The young dwarf especially agonizes over the possibility of Thorin’s demise. Fili is usually not one for prayer, but he prays now, to Aule for Thorin’s safety. He sends a prayer or two for the hobbit and the other dwarves, but his thoughts are dominated by the fate of the one he loves.


	14. Something crumbles behind Fili's eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries to warn Fili of the change in Thorin. Fili doesn't believe it, until he sees for himself and then something inside him dies.

Muscles aching and footsore, Fili manages to lead the other three dwarves to the massive front gates of Erebor before the last meager rays of the winter sun vanishes from the sky, each exhale fogging in the deep chill of the crisp, indigo blue, twilight air. 

Erebor! Fili had listened to Thorin tell tales and sing songs about Erebor for hours on end. The blonde finds that he is unconsciously holding his breath after he sees the state of front gates. Smaug must have smashed through them on his way to razing Esgaroth. Fili waits, heart thudding painfully in his chest, for Bofur, Oin, and Kili to catch up with him.

“I don’t know what we will find inside, but we do know Smaug is dead. Erebor is free from that slug forever.” Fili speaks with a calmness that belies the roiling emotions in his belly, and he is sure to make direct eye contact with each dwarf. Then he gets to the heart of the matter. 

“I know our king and our kin are strong and smart. We have every reason to believe that they’ve survived and are inside waiting for us.”

Fili studies the individual responses to his firmly stated, optimistic pronouncement. Bofur looks up to stare dubiously at the broken and bent gates hanging open like the gaping maw of some old, toothless beast. Oin looks down to intently study his fingernails, and Kili turns to peer longingly back down the slope of the mountain to the still smoldering embers of Esgaroth. Fili figures that not one of them shares his hope of finding their kith and kin alive, but he will not let their doubts keep them from their task. If they are, indeed, the only surviving members of the company of Thorin Oakenshield, then by Mahal, they will NOT forsake Thorin’s dream to reclaim Erebor. They would move forward and fulfill the mission that they had sworn an oath to all those many months ago! He would push or pull them every step of the way if need be! 

Blue eyes burning bright and chin lifted, Fili pivots on his boot heel and marches into the Erebor as the king he would undoubtedly be one day. The other three are left with no other choice but to follow in his imperious wake. 

The scene inside the Lonely Mountain that greets the young, would-be, future king is not encouraging to say the least, but he presses on. From somewhere in the gloom, up above him, Fili hears his name shouted out. His heart leaps for a moment, but when the shout is repeated he realizes it is not a dwarven voice. Well, at least, Bilbo can tell them the tale of what had transpired within these walls. 

“Fili! Bofur! Oin! Kili! We must leave.” Bilbo is out of breath by the time he reaches the bewildered foursome. “We must leave NOW!” Our good hobbit repeats forcefully. 

“We’ve only just gotten here?” Bofur argues. Fili waits silently for Bilbo to explain further. 

“It’s Thorin!” 

Fili closes his eyes to steel himself for the blow of the news of Thorin’s death that is assuredly about to come tumbling out of the hobbit’s mouth, but he is stunned to hear that Bilbo tells of the survival of the entire company, but that Thorin has been overcome. That he is not himself. 

Fili assumes that he knows why Thorin would be in such a state of despair and angst. Not knowing the fate of his two sister-sons would surely drive anyone to madness. The blonde quickly darts around the hobbit blocking his path and sprints to the treasure room where Bilbo had said Thorin was. Bilbo calls his name in vain to stop him. 

 

Thorin, knee deep in a sea of gems and golden treasure, barely looks at him when he and Kili step out onto the balcony overlooking the treasury so that their uncle can see for himself that his beloved nephew, Kili, and his heir and secret lover, Fili are ALIVE. Surely, Thorin will snap out of whatever gold- induced stupor that holds sway over his addled mind. Fili’s heart shatters at the sight of Thorin, his King, his One, caught in an iron tight grip of dragon sickness and gold madness. 

All the young dwarf can do is stare down, heartbroken, at Thorin’s pasty and puffy face with its odd, blank expression. Kili looks questioningly to his older brother, but this time Fili has no words of comfort and support for him. 

 

Bilbo had tried to warn them, but Fili had been upmost in his mind. When Thorin had not given one second of thought to the fate of his two sister sons, the hobbit knew, KNEW that the gold had taken hold over the dwarven king’s senses. Our good hobbit had tried to intercept the blonde to warn him, but had the lad listened? No. No, he had not. Daft dwarf! All of them are daft dwarves! Bilbo grumbles to himself morosely. 

Now the hobbit sits watching some of the dwarves construct an some kind of makeshift but impregnable wall from the rumble at the front gates. He sees the lines of worry etched especially deep in the young blonde’s face. The others seem focused on their task, but Fili repeatedly stumbles, absentmindedly going through the motions. Bilbo had seen when Fili had tried to make eye contact with Thorin that there was nothing. No spark of emotion in the king’s eyes. No lingering gaze where a thousand thoughts and emotions are exchanged between the two deeply bonded pair in a few scant, but intense and heated moments. No, nothing. Bilbo had seen something crumble and die behind Fili’s eyes then, and now the boy’s eyes hold nothing but a dazed and dull look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, these last two chapters have been real downers, right? No wonder it took me a month to get them posted. No wonder no one comments. Anyway, better things to come. Well, there will be sadness, maybe some tears, but there will ultimately be a happy ending. Hang in there. Thank you for reading and any comments you may feel like making.


	15. He KNEW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo talks with Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BE WARNED!!!  
> 1\. This is a sad, SAD, angst-filled chapter. I am sorry.  
> 2\. This was never tagged as a "fix-it". The outcome of the battle is canon. I apologize, but that is way Professor Tolkien wrote it and I am sticking with it.  
> 3\. There will be a happy ending. I know that seems impossible. There may be a reunion in the Halls of Waiting. Just saying...  
> 4\. Yes, I threw a bit of shade at the film-makers for some of their choices. I could not seem to help myself. My apologies.

Outside the mud and blood -spattered tent that serves as the dwarven medical tent, Bilbo sits numbly, waiting his turn to see the gravely wounded Durin King. Bilbo’s head pounds. His hair and clothes reek of blood, thankfully none of his own, sweat, plenty of his own, and far fouler things, possibly his own but certainly of others as well. 

The hobbit replays a little of what he remembers prior to being knocked unconscious. The very last thing he remembers is the stunning sight of the huge eagles cresting the surrounding mountains and flying overhead. Then he vaguely recalls a large shadow falling over him as he stared up at the massive birds. 

The shadow must have been cast from the troll that would fall on him as that is where Gandalf had found him, underneath a dead troll. How it had not crushed him instantly or subsequently suffocated him to death is a bit of a mystery, but he gives that subject not another thought. Nor did Bilbo give much thought to ponder how in all Middle Earth were trolls able to be out and about in daylight during this battle that would later become to be known as the Battle of Five Armies. 

Gandalf had filled him in on some important bits he had missed smushed as he was, unconscious under the troll, like how Beorn had slain both Bolg, the spawn of the Pale Orc and then Azog himself.. And how the skinchanger had evacuated an injured Thorin off the battlefield to the medical tent where Bilbo now sits, but not before those vile orcs had killed both Fili and Kili.

Gandalf had told him that Kili had died defending his uncle and brother. Bilbo knew that to be untrue as he had seen Fili die at the hands of Azog on Ravenhill, and that Kili had for some reason chosen not to go to his brother’s body but had charged back up Ravenhill to face an overwhelming force of orcs. However, the hobbit does not feel like correcting Gandalf. Gandalf had not been there. He had not seen Thorin’s face, his eyes, when Azog had held Fili’s bloodied and broken body up like a rag doll to taunt the dwarven king. 

Gandalf says that Thorin’s wounds may yet be mended and healed with the proper medical care, but Bilbo knows better. The grey wizard had not seen Thorin’s eyes as he watched in horror as Azog’s blade pierced the blonde’s chest and then drop him as if the lad were a sack of rubbish to free fall to the snow-covered stone below. Bilbo had already witnessed Thorin’s soul die. Thorin Oakenshield had died the moment Fili had. Bilbo had seen it in his eyes. 

The hobbit had watched Thorin rush towards Ravenhill, and Dwalin, who had taken off after Thorin, said that Thorin had sprinted towards Ravenhill, shouting out Kili’s name in hopes of saving his beloved nephew. Bilbo knows better. He knows Thorin had been rushing towards Ravenhill to retrieve Fili’s body if for no other reason than to gather the boy’s shattered remains from the battlefield. 

Bilbo’s mind wanders to some questions that tickle at the back of his brain such as what exactly had happened to Dwalin? He had literally been only a step or two behind Thorin yet he had seemed to vanish from the battle completely. Hmmm? And how had Azog gotten down off the very top of Ravenhill so quickly and without going past Kili as the clearly upset young dwarf had raced up the stairs? Honestly, Azog was one armed, did he somehow manage to repel down the side of the sheer cliff face? Come to think of it, hadn’t Azog already been dead for some time? Had Azog the Defiler not been slain by Dain at the Battle of Moria decades earlier? Bilbo strains his addled brain to try to remember his dwarven history. 

That mental exercise turns his mind to elven history as well. Later, Bilbo would hear some tell that Thranduil’s son, Legolas, and some red headed female elf had been part of this great battle. That this pair had just suddenly appeared, poof, in Mirkwood, in Esgaroth, and then in the Battle of Five Armies, first in Dale and then poof, on top of Ravenhill. The hobbit snorts dismissively, it seems like those two elves would have had to have possessed some kind physic- defying means of transport to accomplish that! What a load of rubbish Bilbo thinks. 

In later years, when Bilbo hears the retelling of the Battle of Five Armies, he is struck at how many folk actually believe the bit about the two elves. He wonders why some storytellers had thought to force the pair into the simple story of a band of brothers on a quest? It is not like the additions had added anything substantive to the story line. On the contrary, Bilbo would think, they had rather retracted a great deal from the main plot. Oh well, our good hobbit thinks sometimes certain facts can get muddled in the retelling of a tale. 

Bilbo’s mind is jolted back to the present, when Dain flings open the tent flap and strides out the royal healing tent, followed by Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gandalf, and some other Iron Hill’s dwarves. 

“He is insistent on seeing Mr. Baggins and straight away.” The lord of the Iron Hills barks out, clearly frustrated. Bilbo quakes in fear. Gandalf had brought him here because the wizard that said that Thorin had very much wanted to see him. But why? Bilbo and Thorin had not parted on the best of terms exactly. The dwarf had tried to toss over the ramparts of Erebor, but then Bilbo had run through a raging battle to warn the dwarven king of the dangers awaiting him and his sister sons on Ravenhill, hadn’t he?

Bilbo swallows audibly, standing, he says in a wavering voice. “I’m Mr. Baggins.” 

Dain whirls around to stare hard that the small hobbit. Bilbo stands firm, albeit with knees knocking under the intense gaze of the large dwarf towering over him. Dain must be every bit as tall as Dwalin, Bilbo notes. This fact does nothing to lessen the trembling of his knees. 

“Come on with you, then.” Dain says as he swipes aside the tent flap and waves his meaty hand to indicate that Bilbo should go inside. 

“He means to speak to you. Alone. wouldn’t take the blasted pain medicine before he speaks to you. AND we cannot get to tending his wounds before he takes the bloody pain medicine!” Dain exclaims, exasperated to no end as Bilbo’s lack of speed.

Bilbo squeaks in dismay and hurriedly ducks past Dain, under his thick arm and scurries inside. There he finds Thorin II, the King Under the Mountain, alone, his eyes closed, his long hair laying lank on the pillow, the smell of clotted blood cloying the air. 

When Bilbo approaches the pallet, Thorin’s blue eyes crack open. The tiny small that graces the dwarf’s chapped lips undoes the hobbit. He falls to his knees beside Thorin to explain himself. Explain why he had given the Arkenstone to Bard and Thranduil. What he had hoped to accomplish, but more than anything to beg forgiveness. Thorin stays his words. 

“Bilbo, it is I who should apologize to you. I beg for your forgiveness.” 

“Of course, you have it. You have it!” Bilbo repeats. He clutches at Thorin’s closed fist where it lay on the blood stained linen. “Now let’s get Oin and the other healers in here. Now, right now!” Thorin smiles broadens slightly at the hobbit and his tendency to repeat himself in times of stress. The dwarven king shakes his head no. 

“I hate to ask this, but I am in need of a favor, Mr. Baggins.” 

Bilbo nods quickly, steeling himself for whatever the dwarf is about to ask. 

Uncurling his hand, Thorin shows Bilbo the small, beautiful beads in his hands. Four beads made of mithril with a complex insignia etched into them and strands of blonde hair clinging to them. 

“These are my beads….” Thorin chokes back tears. “These are my beads that I ripped from Fili’s hair.” The injured dwarf draws in a shuddering breath before continueing.

”After the ramparts…where I had tried to throw you over the wall….” Thorin’s eyes burn bright with regret. Bilbo nods to let him know he understands. “After I….after I….” The dwarf squeezes his eyes shut. “After Fili, my ever dutiful heir, ignored my order to toss you from the ramparts….. I turned on him…I..I..I physically attacked him.” Thorin sobs out and opens his eyes to stare up, wide-eyed, yet unseeing at the tent overhead. 

“Oh Mahal! When he dared to disobey me, I grabbed at the beads I had braided into his hair…I ripped them from his hair.” Thorin turns his face to Bilbo, the tears spill from his eyes and fall in fat drops down his cheeks. “The look of utter shock and hurt on his face. I cannot erase that look from my memory.” Thorin goes on with his confession in an agonized and tormented whisper. 

Letting his head loll back on the pillow and his eyelids slid shut, Thorin whimpers in physical and emotional pain. “I literally ripped away the symbol of our bond, the tangible evidence of my love for him… these beads, I had braided into his hair on the night we pledged ourselves to each other. I yanked them off his person as if to my pledge to him had meant nothing. As if HE were nothing.” Thorin continues to cry silently. 

Bilbo stays silent. There are no words he say. He can do naught to assuage the dwarf’s guilt nor his pain. He can only sit next to him, pat his hand, and watch the tears leave tracks down Thorin’s dirty cheeks, where they disappear into his dark beard. Despite the heavy and tense emotions filling the tent, Bilbo ponders for the umpteenth time, why Thorin’s beard is so damn short? Honestly, the dwarf was KING of the LONGBEARDS, for Yavanna’s sake, why is Thorin’s beard neatly trimmed? 

Well, that line of thought leads to why every other dwarf, like every, single one Bilbo had ever seen, all the dwarves of Dain’s army certainly, had full, long, bushy beards. Why were the members of the company’s beard so…well, not..? All except, Balin, of course. Now, there was a dwarf with a proper beard, Bilbo thinks. 

Bilbo could perhaps understand why Kili had no beard. The idea that he was too young to have one was utter rot. Dwarves reached their majority at forty so it was certainly not due to his physical age of seventy-seven. Hmmm, perhaps mental age is a factor, Bilbo supposes? The lad was by far the most immature dwarf of the company, by leagues and leagues. Well, no that was not right. Ori.. Ori was not exactly the epitome of maturity, either. And certainly, not anywhere close to the typical physical standard for a dwarf. Bilbo hums in thought. Perhaps Kili and Ori were mongrel dwarves? No, that is an uncharitable word, Bilbo chides himself. Of mixed blood, perhaps? 

Someone had assuredly put the idea into Kili’s head that he was part elf. What with the bow, the no beard…. Although having a full beard would certainly be an impediment when using a bow, would it not? 

Thorin’s sudden rasping and gasping breath, returns Bilbo’s full attention to him. 

“And I cannot tell him….I cannot tell him I did not mean it…that I love him…that I cherish him more than this stupid mountain and all its bloody treasure. He’s dead…he died trying to save his brother and me!” The distressed wail from Thorin pains Bilbo’s heart. 

“He had watched silently, in the background just as he always did, when his brother had come raging up to me, tears in his eyes, anger in his voice, shouting about not letting others fight our battles for us…Kili was always one for the overdramatic…anyway, I had the chance to show Kili that I still love him. We had our tender moment, but Fiili? He and I…we had no chance to be alone for me to reassure him that HE, my golden lad, was my greatest treasure. We didn't have the privacy for me to rebraid my beads into his hair. Nor to speak at all...He died not knowing!”

“He knew…that lad knew of your love for him, Thorin.” Bilbo states, now crying himself, with all the firmness and conviction his soft, hobbit voice can muster. “He KNEW.”


	16. He HAD to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo does two last duties in the service to the company of Thorin Oakenshield. One he completes before he and Thorin say their final goodbyes. The other he still has to figure out how to accomplish.

The hobbit slips out of the dwarven king’s tent, his right hand cramping slightly from the hurried task Thorin had asked of him. His left hand protectively covers his waistcoat pocket which now holds not only the precious treasure he had found deep within the Misty Mountains, but also, Thorin’s most precious treasure, the four deceptively delicate looking beads that belong in a certain blonde’s hair. As soon as he passes beneath the tent flap, Dain, Balin, Dwalin, Gloin, and Oin with another phalanx of dwarven healers who had been waiting, rather impatiently waiting to tend to their king’s wounds, charge into the tent. 

Bilbo sighs. He thinks that Thorin will pass from this good Middle Earth into legend shortly despite all of their best efforts. Thorin no longer wishes to remain in Erebor. He no longer wishes to be anywhere in Middle Earth. Not when his sister sons had passed onto the Halls of Waiting. 

Bilbo heaves another huge sigh, takes one last look over his shoulder. He and Thorin had said their final farewells. There had been many tears as Bilbo transcribed a detailed missive, verbatim, as Thorin dictated the words. Then, after Bilbo had carefully folded the parchment. Thorin had sealed it with hot, red wax, imprinted his crest from the ring, Durin’s ring, that he wears on his right hand. It is a letter to the next King Under the Mountain. In this letter, Thorin explicitly states that Dain Ironfoot, Lord of the Iron Hills, would come the morrow, ascend to the Title of Heir of Durin, King of all the seven dwarven clans. Detailing the line of ascension to the dwarven throne had been but only one part of Thorin’s last message that the King longs to impart to his kith and kin before he himself passes on to the Halls of Waiting. Bilbo is glad that he could be of use in getting the words Thorin so desperately needs to be said written down for all to know. 

Bilbo had also sworn an oath to Thorin to execute one last seemingly impossible feat- getting the beads back into Fiii’s hair before the lad was sealed in the royal catacombs of deep within heart of the Lonely Mountain. Just as he had with the trolls, with the goblins, with the blasted elven dungeon, with the dragon…fair point, he had not exactly accomplished what he had been contracted to do which was find the Arkenstone WITHOUT disturbing the confounded dragon, but still, it had worked out in the end, right? Bilbo would find a way to complete his last mission in the service of the company of Thorin Oakenshield. 

Bilbo had been shaken to his soft, squishy hobbit core by the haunted look in Thorin’s eyes and his deep baritone when the dwarf had handed over the precious beads as he had struggled to sing his last song to Fili.

Another night slowly closes in  
And I feel so lonely  
Touching heat freezing on my skin  
I pretend you still hold me  
I’m going crazy, I’m losing sleep  
I’m in too far, I’m in way too deep over you  
I can’t believe you’re gone  
You were the first, you’ll be the last  
Wherever you go, I’ll be with you  
Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you  
Whenever you need someone  
To lay your head and heart upon  
Remember after the fire, after all the rain  
I will be the flame  
I will be the flame

 

On the outside of the tent, Bilbo steels himself and straightens his spine. He would fulfill the promise he had just made to King Thorin himself. He HAD to …Thorin’s and Fili’s eternal happiness depended on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know...this is a very short filler chapter. I could not resist one last song, lyrics from 'The Flame' by Cheap Trick. Forgive me.


	17. Silent as a shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes a late night visit to the hall where Thorin's, Fili's, and Kili's bodies lie in state. He makes good on his last promises to Thorin.

It is hours and hours later, in the early morning light pink of dawn, when Bilbo hears the word, spreading like wildfire through the makeshift tent city, that the great Thorin Oakenshield had succumbed to his grievous, battle injuries and would be joining his sister sons in the Halls of Waiting. Only after speaking with various dwarves does Bilbo piece together the significance of returning the beads to Fili before the boy is entombed within the mountain. Returned to stone is the turn of phrase the dwarves prefer to use. Apparently, a dwarf’s soul lingers beyond the entrance to the Great Hall of Waiting until his or her body is encased in stone or stone work, then and only then can the soul be granted access to the vast chamber beneath the earth to wait with all their brethren until the time Mahal decides to remake the world. 

Not exactly Bilbo’s idea of heaven by any means, but he is not about to judge another for their spiritual beliefs. So, it would seem he has until the funerals for the three sons of Durin to rebraid Thorin’s beads into Fili’s golden hair. 

Bilbo knows Thorin had handed one letter Bilbo had transcribed over to Dain and Balin immediately after the hobbit had taken his leave of the tent. Within that letter, King Thorin had decreed that Dain would be the next King Under the Mountain. Bilbo possesses another letter, signed by Thorin’s own hand, albeit it shook more than his usually steady hand, the signature is no less distinctive. Anyone who had known Thorin would recognize the signature. This letter is also sealed with Thorin’s seal, Durin’s ring, in red wax. As his time drew nigh, Thorin had removed that ring from his finger and had handed it over to Lord Dain. Dain had slipped it on his own finger before tightly clasping his dying cousin’s hand. Dain had held King Thorin’s gaze along with his hand when the latter took his last breath. 

It seems the line of Durin would not be broken after all as Dain was Thorin’s first cousin. Or rather Dain’s father, Nain, and Thorin’s father, Thrain had been first cousins. Frankly, Bilbo did not care what kind of cousins that made Thorin and Dain, but it would seem the line of Durin would go on unbroken from Durin himself. Some of the Iron Hills dwarves had even had the audacity to say aloud that it was better for the line of Durin to go through Dain as he was a direct, male descendent of Durin unlike Fili or Kili who were sons of Thrain’s daughter, yadi, yadi, yadi. Whatever…what utter rot Bilbo thinks. He smirks to himself because he is quite aware that none of those dwarves dare utter such nonsense in front of any member of the company, especially not Dwalin. The tall, hulking dwarf would be sure to relieve one of his head from his shoulders if he were to overhear such talk.

After two days of bidding his time, waiting and watching for an opportunity for to get to Fili’s body, Bilbo had been thwarted at every turn. The little fellow begins to fret that he would never have a chance to complete his sworn task. The surviving members of the company have taken up positions to stand guard in the hall which holds Kili, Fili, and Thorin’s bodies. 

Confounded dwarves, Bilbo mutters. They never take a break. There are always at least two pair of eyes ever watching over the three sons of Durin as they lie in state. The funeral will be on the morrow so he must make his move tonight. But how?

Under the guise of bringing liquid refreshment to the honor guard on duty, Bilbo does not find a time when the bodies of Kili, Fili, and Thorin are not under close and direct observation. Drat, Bilbo worries as he pats his waistcoat pocket. Then he hits upon a solution. He will have to be silent as a shadow, and he will have to be mindful of his actual shadow when he wears his special ring…but perhaps he could pull it off? Perhaps he could return the beads to Fili’s hair right under the noses of the company without being detected just as Thorin and Fili had carried on their love affair under the homophobic noses of the other dwarves for decades? Well, the good hobbit figures, he will just have to try. 

When Bilbo sees who is on guard, he almost loses his nerve. Blast it all! Dwalin with his twin axes and a hair trigger to boot. Nori with his foxy face and the sly, cunning instincts to match. Fucking lovely, but Bilbo persists. He has to. He had promised Thorin on his death bed, and by all the Valar, Bilbo would see it done. 

Creeping along the stone wall, golden ring on his finger, Bilbo stealthily moves, silent on his furry feet and completely invisible save for the shadows his person casts on the floor and walls. He will have to be careful. Neither Nori’s nor Dwalin’s keen eyes are likely to miss if he makes a blunder. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Bilbo rounds the corner to peer past the two dwarves stoically standing guard to the three, raised, stone, funeral platforms which hold Thorin’s, Fili’s, and Kili’s clean and bathed bodies, dressed in the finest Durin blue clothing that could be salvaged from the royal chambers in Erebor. 

A well-aimed stone, tossed to the other side of the hall, catches Dwalin and Nori’s attention for the few seconds it takes for the hobbit to slip past them and make it to the far side of the tall stone platforms. With his shadow safely out of sight, Bilbo makes fast work of braiding Thorin’s beads into Fili’s blonde hair. Bilbo regrets that his braids are simple, not the intricate design that Thorin would have braided, but he makes them as neatly as possible. Finally, he slips Thorin’s other signed and sealed letter from his jacket pocket and slides it under Thorin’s clasped hands. 

The good hobbit touches each body one last time, biding each farewell and god speed in reaching the Halls of Waiting. With tears clinging to his lashes, Bilbo chucks another pebble to the opposite wall this time to distract Dwalin and Nori’s gaze for the moment he needs to make his escape undetected. For years later, Nori would insist that he had seen unexplained drops of liquid splash on the floor while he had stood guard over the sons of Durin that last night, but no one ever pays him much mind about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end. Perhaps two more chapters. In one, we'll find out what Thorin has to say in the other letter, we'll see how the dwarves react. Comments are greatly appreciated.


	18. All will be left in peace to live and love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral and Thorin's letter.

The triple funeral for the three sons of Durin, dressed in the rich Durin blue of their house, had progressed as most sad, solemn affairs tend to do so with tears being shed plainly by those who cared most for the royal trio, words of praise describing the valor and honor of the departed souls, and adherent prayers for Mahal to take the three into his grand Hall of Waiting to join their ancestors. All had gone rather smoothly up until….Up until the elven king of the Woodland Realm, King Thranduil, in a sparkling silver gown-like garment and the ridiculous, flimsy, twig crown perched atop his stick straight, platinum hair, King Bard, more grim-faced than usual, and that is saying something, and the huge skinchanger, Beorn had approached King Thorin to pay their last respects. 

Thranduil goes to Thorin’s side first, which, in the sheer fact that the elf is in attendance at the sacred service ruffles more than a few feathers amongst the dwarves, but Gandalf and Dain quiet the grumblings and rumblings. In pulling out the magnificent sword, Orcrist, forged ages ago by his own, elven kin centuries earlier, Thranduil pauses for a couple, heart-stilling moments where he frowns down at Thorin, before he bows his shiny head and sets the sword to lay on Thorin’s legs. Stepping aside to allow King Bard to approach, Thranduil glides back to his assigned spot. 

For his part, Bard stomps up to King Thorin. No one would ever say that King Bard ever glided, the man simply put his head down and bulled his way forward, a trait that would subsequently come to serve him well in his long reign in Dale. When Bard gets to Thorin’s side, he pulls out the Arkenstone and leans over to put the glittering stone into Thorin’s hands, but he, too, stops and frowns, cocking his dark head to one side as if he were a dog puzzled by a new sight or sound. The tall man straightens back to his full height, Arkenstone still in hand, and looks questioningly over to Dain, the dwarves, and the grey wizard. 

Dain puts a hand on Dwalin’s arm to stay the dwarven warrior as he had already pulled Grasper free and had taken his first step towards Bard. 

“Peace, cousin.” Dain says quietly yet evenly. With his voice and tone still calm and even, but louder, Dain calls out to Bard. “What is it, King Bard?”

“He has a…letter?” Bard hesitates, peering down intently, tilting his head to and fro as if to try to get a better angle to determine whatever he sees in under Thorin’s hands. 

“A letter?” Dain asks, shooting a quizzical look over to Balin and Dwalin. Balin shakes his white head no and Dwalin scrowl deepens. He grips Grasper a bit more tightly. 

“Yes, a letter.” Bard replies, looking back over his shoulder at the dwarves. 

“It is addressed to Durin’s Heir.” Thranduil supplies in a flat, neutral tone, his eyes fixed over the heads of the dwarves. Having seen the letter as well, the elf had thought better of commenting on it. Apparently, Bard had had no such qualms. 

Dain strides over with quick and decisive steps, past Thranduil, to stand next to the dour Bard. The dwarf sees the piece of folded parchment, sticking out from beneath Thorin’s cold, clasped hands. The dwarf knows that it had not been there last night. Dain tugs at one edge and the paper slips free. Studying the seal intently for several seconds, “This is sealed with the Durin ring.” He declares without glancing up, but confusion is evident in his voice. 

“Did someone place this on Thorin’s body last night?” He questions Dwalin directly. 

“No, not possible, no one was allowed near him. Not him nor the lads. Nori and I did not leave our positions for a second.” Dwalin answers firmly, meeting his cousin’s level gaze, unflinching.

Bilbo freezes. This is the moment of truth. He is quite aware of what the letter contains for he had transcribed it for Thorin, and the hobbit’s knees knock a bit and he quakes slightly on his hairy feet to how the dwarves react to the message held within. 

Dain turns the parchment over and over, studying all sides of the folded paper. 

“Hmmm…it looks like Thorin’s seal.”

Then running the pad of his thumb over impression the red wax several times. The former Lord of the Iron Hills had gotten enough communications from Thorin Oakenshield over the decades to recognize his mark by sight and feel.

“It feels like Thorin’s seal. I believe it is from Thorin.” Dain finally pronounces. He passes the letter over to Thorin’s closest advisor, Balin, for his inspection. Balin would know that mark anywhere. He heaves a big sigh. 

“I concur. This letter is sealed with Durin’s ring. Dain, if you did not seal this letter, then only Thorin could have done so before…before he gave the ring to you and passed into legend.” Balin finishes with a heavy sigh.

‘Open it. See what it says.” Dain instructs.

Bilbo finds himself holding his breath while he watches the number of emotions play over Balin’s face in the time span it takes the snowy headed dwarf to read the words written on the page. At first, there is abject sadness demonstrated by the softening around the old dwarf’s eyes and lips. The message causes Balin’s brows to lift and his mouth form a perfect ‘o’ in shock and surprise. Those emotions yield to anger and outrage. A deep flush spreads across Balin’s face as his lips tighten into a hard line and his white brows lower. 

“By Mahal’s beard, what does it say?” Dain exclaims, his voice booming with concern. 

“Nothing.” Balin snaps as he crumbles the parchment into his fist. 

“Bollocks! Nothing my hairy arse!” Dain bellows. He stalks towards Balin who hides the paper behind his back. Dain stills, and his eyes become hard. 

“Hand it over.” 

When Balin hesitates, Dain’s own honor guard makes to move forward which in turn makes Dwalin stride to his brother’s side.

“Stand down.” Dain commands all in a dangerously flat tone. He stares down Dwalin who after two thudding heartbeats, side steps to allow Dain to take a pace forward to stand in front of Balin. 

“Hand it over. I believe that is addressed to me.” Dain repeats slowly, in a deadly quiet voice. All present would come to mark the moment as the one where Dain had truly ascended to his role as King of all the Durin’s folk, King Under the Mountain. That moment erased any lingering doubt of Dain’s legitimacy as Durin’s heir. Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills had in that moment become King Dain, the King Under the Mountain, and he would live up to that title everyday with courage, honor, and a willing heart until the day of his death.

The lines etched deep in Balin’s face speak volumes to his reluctance to do so, but he finally thrusts the wadded piece of parchment towards his cousin. 

King Dain reads the letter silently. Then he takes a deep breath, without looking up, he asks. “Do you have any question to the validity of the signature?” 

If Balin had thought to refuse to answer, another hard glare from his new king changes his mind. He shakes his head and looks down at his boots. 

King Dain clears his voice and reads Thorin’s letter again, this time aloud. 

“I, Thorin, son of Thrain, will soon depart this life. I am forever thankful to Beorn, the skinchanger, for evacuating me from the field so that I could have an opportunity to get my affairs in order before I pass from Middle Earth. I vehemently hope that the good will forged between dwarves, elves, and men where they fought shoulder to shoulder for the common good in the terrible Battle of Five Armies will be maintained for generations to come. I am grateful to Lord Dain, King Thranduil, Bard, the Bowman of Esgaroth, as they stood by our side in our hour of need. 

I am grateful to our burglar, Mr. Baggins, for his service and his friendship, despite the fact that I am deserving of neither. I am grateful to the loyal, courageous, and fierce band of brothers that followed me on the quest to reclaim our homeland. While I am relieved beyond measure that none save two of our company lost their lives in the endeavor, my heart will never heal because both of my sister-sons perished in the battle. Blinded by my greed, arrogance, and pride, I was ready to go to war over mire trinkets. 

I ordered my precious nephews, the two most dear things in all of Middle Earth to me, into a trap that the orcs had laid. My heir, Fili sacrificed himself so that his brother and myself could have a chance to escape. Kili must have lost his mind and all reason to have so foolishly thrown his brother's sacrifice away when he decided not to run, but to fight the hordes of orcs he knew to be in the Ravenhill tunnels. Those two bright gems, worth more to me than the Arkenstone and all the golden treasure within Ereobor have gone to the Halls of Waiting. I cannot stay here when they are not. I cannot live while they do not.

Kili, my lovable and adorable rascal sister-son, I could not have loved him more if he had been my own son. I could see so much of my brother, Frerin, in him, the same recklessness and high-spirited antics. I admit, that on more than one occasion, I had been accused of overindulging the lad to the point of preventing him from fully maturing. Perhaps those accusations were correct, but I had sought to protect and shield him from the harsh slings and arrows of the world. If I coddled him too much, I did out of love for him. 

As for Fili, I loved and cherished him, but not in the same way as his brother. I had been approached by a few who noticed how distant and cold I was with the boy. Some were confused why I could love the younger nephew as a son, but not the elder. I will speak it plain, I loved Fili not as a son, but as my One. My love for him is so deep and profound that words fail me. He and I were bonded to each other as all Ones, in every way- mentally, emotionally, and physically, but we had to keep our love secret and remain silent as so many viewed it as a sin. I pledged myself to him and he to me. His beads rest in my hair, braided by his own hand, and my beads lay in his. 

Many dwarrow view our love as wicked, tainted, sinful, and judge us as evil incarnate. So be it. They will not judge us because we are close blood relatives engaged in carnal relations because those affairs are common within dwarven society, but that we are both male. Perhaps those dwarrow are right, but Fili and I share a bond that Mahal himself cannot tear asunder. I will stand by his side when we are judged by Durin at the gate to the Halls of Waiting. Should Durin deny us entry and should Mahal shatter us with his war hammer, so be it. We will be together. We belong together. We live and breathe as One and will forever be One in the here after. “

King Dain finishes. As the hue and cry of outrage from some of members of the company starts, he raises his thick hand and silence falls again. 

“I know in the Blue Mountains, same sex couples may be looked upon as unholy unions, but in the Iron Hills, we don’t. I don’t care one whit how consenting adults choose to love another. I will be damned before I let anyone judge who or how I should love another. I imagine each of you feel the same? If you want to be free to love whom you wish, then what right do you have to deny another that same freedom?”

King Dain makes direct eye contact with each of the remaining members of the company. He answers his own question. “In Erebor and throughout the seven dwarven clans, all will be treated with respect and equality. The policy hence forth will be if you don’t like how someone chooses to love another, don’t do it yourself, but you will not be allowed to define who or how another can choose to love. All will be left in peace to live and love.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh- I've had to tweak Thorin's letter and bit and I still am not 100% happy with it, but it will have to do.


	19. The All Father, Durin, and his Ledger of Accounts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili wakes up just outside the Halls of Waiting. He meets the All Father, Durin the Deathless, and his huge ledger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know. I had said that this would be the last chapter. I lied. Or if i rationalize my lie, I underestimated how much needed to be worked out. Sue me. Anyway, there will be one more chapter after this.

Before he opens his eyes, Fili senses warmth on his face, on his body as if he were sunbathing in the rays of a temperate sun. He floats on a cloud of the softest air, with a pleasant warm breeze rifling through his hair. He has not a care in the world. There is a calming and serene feeling of peace and contentment. 

It is a far, far cry from what he felt during the last moments of his life. Burning fire, icy coldness, agony, and fear. Oh Mahal the fear. The pain in his shattered arms and legs is bad, but the fear…the fear is overwhelming. Fear that death is near. Not his own for that is inevitable now, being held aloft like a rag doll for Azog to taunt his uncle with, no, his fear is that the same fate awaits his brother and uncle. Fear that the same agony his is experiencing will soon be inflicted upon his kin. He must do something, anything…

“Go!” He had shouted, staring directly at the one he loves more than life itself. The same one who had shredded his heart, but still, Fili would not want to see Thorin in Azog’s hands. Fili wants to Thorin to be able to claim the title of King Under the Mountain, his rightful place. 

But Thorin had stubbornly stayed just where he was, frozen to the spot where he, Dwalin, and Bilbo stood, across the icy river that separated them from Ravenhill. Fili had known that Kili had gone to the lower levels. He had ordered him to go there himself. His little brother has a chance to escape, but there is none for him. 

“Run!” He had screamed. To both brother and uncle. Run for your lives. It would be his last word, his last breath for in the next Fili had felt Azog’s prosthetic blade pierce his back, his lungs. If he had been able he could have looked down to see the blade tip protrude from his chest, but he didn’t. He had already died. 

A gently hand cups his face and runs a thumb over his closed eyelids. Fili is still afraid. Afraid to awaken to return to the pain, the cold, the fear, but when he cracks open one day, a face from long ago swims into view. 

“Adad!” 

His father’s smile is still the same. Kili has that same smile. 

“Welcome, Fili. Your troubles are over. You are home, my son.” Fethrin’s deep rumble soothes Fili’s anxiety now just as it had when Fili was but a small dwarfling. 

“Adad.” Fili repeats. He almost cannot believe what he is seeing. It had been decades since he had last laid eyes on the dark blonde dwarf. 

Fili basks in the warm smile of his father. 

“Now, let’s go awake up your brother.” Fethrin says, his broad smile never wavering. 

“Wha…NO! Please, no….” Fili whimpers. Kili is not meant to be here. He is supposed to be have survived. Fili had sacrificed himself so that Kili would live. The blonde props himself on his elbows. Sadness gives way to anger. 

“By Mahal’s beard, what happened!” The blonde demands. 

Fethrin shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him yourself, lad.” He gestures towards a recumbent form, lying just to the left of Fili. 

Fili’s anger fades as he looks at his brother’s serene, peaceful visage. He slumps back to lie flat, the blonde can no longer bear it. Despite all he had done to keep his brother safe, Kili had still wound up dead. Tears of frustration and abject grief leak out of his eyes to run down his cheeks. 

Fethrin sighs and goes to sit next to his dark haired son. Fili watches as their father strokes his hand tenderly over Kili’s cheeks and then his eyes. Kili’s eyes pop open and a goofy smile spreads like a sunbeam across his face. 

“Adad!” He exclaims. Fethrin smiles back. Kili shoots up and hugs the father he had last seen when he was 10 years old. “I’ve missed you!” 

Chuckling, Fethrin embraces his youngest son tightly. “I’ve missed you too, but honestly, I could have waited to see you for several decades, at least. Both of you.” He says staring directly at his oldest son. 

Kili jerks his head towards the direction of his father’s gaze. “Fili.” The young dwarf whispers still smiling like a fool, and he reaches for his brother. 

Fili jerks away from the touch, the anger returning in crashing waves of bitterness and betrayal. 

“What?” Kili asks, truly dumbfounded. 

“I’m mad!” Fili shouts. 

“At me? What did I do?” 

The question, asked with wide, innocent eyes, sends the blonde over the edge. “What didn’t you do on this Mahal-forsaken quest?! What stupid, feckless, thoughtless thing didn’t you do?!” 

Kili’s mouth falls open. He looks over to his father, expecting the dwarf to step in to defend him, but Fethrin simply looks sad and remains silent while Fili vents his pain and frustration. 

“I’m mad, I’m furious, in fact! I died so that you could live. I got you off Ravenhill to protect YOU! Azog and his signal corps had last been seen on the top of Ravenhill, where else would they be? Certainly, NOT in the lower levels. Only an idiot would think that!” 

Kili narrows his eyes and his brows lower menacingly, but his brother had been holding in this unsettling feeling what something had been amiss in their relationship for the entire quest. Fili had acted so that his brother would have a chance to survive their doomed scouting mission and what had Kili done, but to throw away Fili’s ultimate sacrifice as if it were nothing. 

“I said I had it so that you would have a chance to escape. I knew Azog and his orcs were there. They had to be. I flushed them out in the upper levels. I gave you a chance to run, to live…but you threw it away… like my life ….was trash, like I meant nothing! Did you even check to see if I was dead? Did you for one second grieve for me?” Fili cries, his anger yielding to hurt and betrayal. 

The blonde starts to sob in earnest now. He had made his brother’s welfare and safety a priority his whole life. It hurt like dragon fire to finally realize that his brother did not feel the same. Its cut the young blonde to the quick to finally acknowledge that fact. His brother had not one time come to his aid during the quest. Not a single time although he had been there for his brother at every turn, during the Storm Battle, in Goblintown, on the docks of Esgaroth, during Smaug’s attack, on the ramparts of Erebor, and finally, in the snowy tunnels of Ravenhill? Had Kili at any one of those moments placed himself in between Fili and danger? No, the younger dwarf had taken for granted that his brother would and should be there as his protector and savior, but that he, Kili, had zero obligation to do the same. 

 

“I think you are overreacting, brother.” Kili sniffs when Fili’s sobs prevent him from continuing. “I was being heroic. I am the heroic heartthrob of the story after all. But I guess, you wouldn’t know much about that.” 

Fethrin, who had remained sad and silent as his sons argue before the gate to the Grand Halls of Waiting, blinks in confusion and then laughs, a deep belly laugh.

“I think you may be confused, son. Reckless and thoughtless, self-centered and self-absorbed are anything but heroic. In truth, they are often the direct opposite.” Their father chuckles. “Depends on who is reading the story certainly, but bratty, adolescent behavior is never heroic despite what some who believe they may know better think. Whoever thought to shoehorn those two dipshit elves into the story are just as bad!” 

“At least, their heroics did not get them killed.” Fili says mournfully, wiping away his tears. Turning to his brother, he continues. “I hate that you died. I love you. I would have…I DID do EVERYTHING I could to ensure your safety. I am sorry to see you here. You had so many years left to live. So many years to have loved and been loved in return.”

“Yeah…I suppose you’re right?” Kili muses. “I really did love that red headed elf. And she loved me.” He says scratching his chin stubble. Fili’s mouth drops open in surprise at his brother’s words. 

Fethrin’s eyes almost roll out of their sockets as this pronouncement, but he remains silent. He wants to get on with his primary task which is, as the lads’ parent, to awaken them from their stone slumber so that they can move forward into the Halls of Waiting. The question will be which one will each of his sons gain entry into? The sandy blonde dwarf sighs and calls out to a bemused dwarf who had watching the entire exchange between the brothers. “Deathless, let’s get on with this, shall we?”

Durin, the Deathless, the dwarf that mans the Gate into the Halls of Waiting, chuckles to himself as he stares in turn from Fili to Kili. As he carefully unfolds his spectacles and sets them on the tip of his rather magnificent nose, he mildly chides. “Well, this is the place for the airing of grievances, Fethrin.” 

Another huge eye roll, but Fethrin holds his tongue. Durin rifles through an incredibly large book, by the looks of it some kind of ledger of sorts. When he gets to the page he wants, he uses a thick index finger to scroll down one page, frowning a bit. He hums to himself for a moment, tapping at the bottom of the page. Then he turns to another page and repeats the same process until he stops short. He looks up from the book to peer, grim-faced down his nose at the brothers. Kili unconsciously sidles to his left to ease behind his elder brother. 

“Normally, we only have the parents or parent stand with you when you are judged.” He taps the pages of the book with his spectacles. “This is the Ledger of Accounts. It holds a complete accounting of your words, deeds, misdeeds, actions, and inactions throughout your life, but since there is someone here who is important to you, who is also awaiting judgement at this time, I think it would be proper and fitting for him to stand with you.”

Kili looks totally lost and Fili’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. “No, please no…don’t tell me he died, too?” He pleads in a pitiful whimper. 

Through the wispy haze of mist, steps two dark headed dwarves. One short and one tall. Thrain, son of Thror, and Thorin, son of Thrain. 

“Uncle!” Kili exclaims, overjoyed to see Thorin. He rushes headlong into Thorin’s open embrace. Fili remains frozen to the spot. He cannot stand to look. Thorin died, too? He would never be King Under the Mountain? Everything Fili had sacrificed during his short life, the love for his One and even his own life had been for naught? 

After Thorin disentangles himself from Kili’s arms, he strides over to Fili. In his grief, Fili had turned his back on his uncle and brother’s reunion. Thorin places his hands on Fili’s shoulders and gently tugs him around to face him. With a tender smile on his lips, he brushes the tears that had sprung unbidden from Fili’s eyes. 

“Do not cry, love. I am here. We are finally as One.” With that, Thorin kisses Fili deeply on the mouth. Eyes wide with shock for just enough time to see Kili’s mouth fall open like a fish’s in surprise, Fili lets his eyelids slip closed to enjoy the gentle slide of Thorin’s tongue over his. It feels so good, so right, Durin be damned. His father and grandfather be damned. Judgement be damned, he was going to stand here and kiss and be kissed by the One to whom his heart and soul belongs, at least for these few moments.

“What in all of Middle Earth are you doing?!” It is Kili, and his face is an interesting mix of fury and bewilderment. He tries to pull Fili away from their uncle. Fili yanks his arm free, not dissimilar to how Kili had jerked away from Fili in Esgaroth. Kili even has the gall to look like a kicked puppy. Fili snorts at his brother’s obtuse hypocrisy. 

“What are you two doing? He is watching.” The young dwarf repeats, looking over his shoulder at Durin, who for his part seems rather amused more than anything.

“I’m done hiding. I love Fili. I am in love with him and have been for years.” Thorin states plainly trying to calm his sister son. 

“In love?!” Kili sputters in disbelief. “Like how….for how long?” He demands.

“1377 to be exact. Starting four decades.” Durin answers looking down at the ledger. 

“Pardon?” Kili mutters. 

“1377 times that they have engaged in a sex act, together. Masturbation doesn’t count, of course. Over forty years ago.” 

Kili’s right eye twitches wildly and mouth forms a perfect “o” in abject horror. 

“You bedded my brother when he had not yet reached his majority!” Kili roars, his brows lowered darkening his faces like a stormcloud. 

“Kili, peace. I was forty when…when we…” Fili hesitates and blushes. “When we began…” He cannot finish the sentence. 

“When I first made love to you.” Thorin answers for the blonde, reaching up to cup Fili’s face in his large hands. It is white lie, a fib. Fili had NOT reached the age of majority when he and Thorin first had a sexual encounter, just not intercourse. Thorin knows he is splitting hairs but…

“For the love of Mahal, SHUT UP!” Kili bellows and covers his eyes with one hand and one of his ears with the other. 

“I understand that this is not your cup of tea, lad, but it IS ours. I will not hide our love in the shadows as if it is something shameful nor some kind of sin. Not anymore.” Thorin states, resolute.

“Well, it is going be a shame when Mahal smushes you lovebirds flat with his hammer.” Kili replies just as resolutely. “Because your…kind of…love is a SIN. Plain and simple. A SIN.” 

“So be it.” Fili says. He takes one of Thorin’s hands in his own and turns to face Durin. “I love Thorin with all my heart.” Casting his eyes back to Thorin, he finishes. “With all my soul. He is my one and if loving him is a sin, then so be it. Judge us however you will.” 

Durin the Deathless says nothing, but he hums and taps his glasses against his teeth. 

“So be it. I’ll get to you in a moment.” He finally says and shrugs. “Now, Fethrin and Thrain, please excuse us and return to your Halls.” Fethrin and Thrain say their farewells and disappear back into the swirling mist. 

“Kili, step forward. You have been judged on the merits of your words and actions. Please step through this way into a Hall of Waiting.” The mist parts again to reveal a huge, ornate doorway. The stone door swings inward. 

“Only me?” Kili squeaks. “Listen, they don’t mean it. I’ve never seen them…together. I mean, Thorin barely speaks to Fili. By my beard, he barely notices him at all. There is no way they’ve been fucking each other. Seriously, no way.” Kili gives Durin his best big, brown eyed, doe look. It usually works on most everyone, why not Durin?

“Go on with you now.” Durin waves the dark haired, beardless dwarf through the doorway. Kili shuffles his feet, stalling. 

“Go on, lad. Know I love you. I have always loved you and always will.” Thorin says, passing their foreheads together. Kili’s chin wobbles and tears glisten in his brown orbs. 

After Thorin releases his brother, Fili steps up. “I love you, Kee.” 

Huffing out, Kili pouts. “You shouted at me.” He accuses. Fili just nods, tears in his eyes at his brother’s rejection, but he knows that it is Kili’s right to be upset or not at what he had said earlier because he had shouted. 

Kili shuffles his feet, but eventually, when Durin waves again, much more impatiently, he takes tentative steps towards the door and slips through it. He disappears into a dense fog and the door swings closed behind him. 

It is a bittersweet moment for the two remaining dwarves. They are happy to know that Kili will be safe and content within the Halls of Waiting even if they are not. Fili and Thorin silently wait, accepting whatever fate will befall them. They will face it together. 

Durin sighs. “I must say, it has been a rather busy around here lately. All those Iron Hills dwarves, you know? Amongst others.” 

Thorin closes his eyes in regret. Aye, he did know. The many citizens of Esgaroth who had died when Smaug had attacked, all the dwarves from the Iron Hills who had come to Erebor’s aid, all the elves and men who fought and bled and died fighting the hordes of orcs. His actions had directly or indirectly caused the death of thousands. Thorin wonders how he could have ever thought he would be granted access to the Halls of Waiting. He surely did not deserve it. 

“Now that Kili is off to the Hall of Reflection, you will be able to go where you belong. Mahal will be waiting for you there.” Durin actually smiles down at them. Fili shudders. From all the years of studying Durin and Mahal, he does not remember the Father nor the Maker ever being described as sadistic, but merrily chirping ‘where you belong’ is just cruel Fili thinks. He waits nervously for the Maker’s hammer. Maybe he and Thorin will have to step into some sort of chamber which holds a great anvil? He shudders again. 

The mist parts again to reveal another large, carefully carved, stone doorway. The door opens inward and soft firelight can be seen flickering inside. 

“Hang one a minute…the Hall of Reflection?” Thorin asks, clearly perplexed. Leave it to Thorin to be more concerned about Kili’s well-being than to be worried about their eminent demise at the hands of a vengeful god who may smash them and THEN burn what’s left Fili thinks angrily, but he keeps his petty thoughts to himself. 

“Aye, the Hall of Reflection is just one of the few Halls here.” Durin answers mildly. “You’re headed to the Halls of Enlightened Waiting, but I must say, Oakenshield, you barely squeaked by… what with bedding you own nephew, and him not even forty yet? Then there is the dragon sickness, starting an armed conflict because you didn’t want to pay up? But you came around it the end, didn’t you?” 

Well, that announcement sets both Thorin and Fili back on their heels and they stand immobilized by the Father’s words, mouths agape. 

A bit impatiently, Durin exclaims “Close your yaps, you look like fresh caught carp! The Maker is waiting to welcome you home. Get in there!” 

“Not before you tell me that my beloved sister son will be okay.” Thorin demands, forever stubborn. 

“By my beard, but you are a complete asshole, Oakenshield! I see where the young one gets it from. I’ll have you know that your sister son, Kili, you know the one you are NOT fucking? Well, he will remain in the Halls of Reflection until he can mature enough to behave in a manner befitting his age, that’s what!” Durin fairly roars. Snatching off his spectacles, Durin wags them like a scolding finger at Thorin. 

“Perhaps if you and your merry band of fuckwits had not brushed off his adolescent and bratty behavior, he wouldn’t have to spend any time taking a hard look at himself and his past behavior in a giant mirror? If you had not excused all of it because he is so young. ‘Just youthful antics’ you all had laughed. ‘He is just reckless, he can’t help it,’ you had said. You let him act like a shit with no correction because he is just too adorable, too good looking to be anything but a hero, right? Truth be told, I think YOU should be going to the Halls of Reflection, too! Taking a good, hard look at the things you did in your life, but Mahal disagrees.” Here Durin shrugs one shoulder and jams his glasses back on his face. “And he’s the boss so get the hell in there.” 

Thorin opens his mouth argue, but Fili bodily drags him through the mist to the doorway and then through it. The door thuds closed. 

“Can you BELIEVE the cheek of that self-righteous fucker?!?” Thorin shouts out. 

“Well he is the All Father so, yeah, I suppose he can be as cheeky as he wants to be.” Fili mutters in reply, eyes darting around for any sign of a giant hammer about to drop on their heads. 

“Welcome the Halls of Enlightened.” A deep voice rumbles. The sound reverberates through their sternums, like a bass drum might or a minor earthquake. Mahal steps into view.


	20. Let's fuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahal explains the Halls of Waiting to Thorin and Fili.

Mahal! The Maker! Aule! One of the bloody Valar! Mahal, the Maker of the dwarven kind! Fili gapes in awe and wonder which turns to terror as he sees the huge ass hammer that said Maker has in his meaty hands. Oh shit, oh shit, the Maker is also the Unmaker… oh shit Fili thinks as he continues to study at the hammer looking for traces of blood or hair on it. Fili’s uncle, on the other hand apparently, is neither in awe nor in fear of Mahal. Hands on hips, Thorin Oakenshield asks, no demands answers. 

“What the fuck is the Hall of Reflection? Will Kili be alright? He is just a lad!” He barks rapid fire at the Maker. 

For his part, the Maker’s smile turns upside down into a slight frown. “Kili is 77 years old, Oakenshield, that is hardly a lad by dwarven standards. I know many of men assume that is young for a dwarf, that his beard hasn’t even come in properly yet. Especially daft female men who cannot see past his good looks or who even more daftly think he is part elf, but he is 77. Dwarves reach legal majority at 40, remember?” Mahal fires back. When delivering the last bit, Mahal smirks and wags his eyebrows at Thorin and cuts his eyes to Fili. Well, that shuts Thorin’s trap. His jaws clamp closed with a resounding clack, and he too drops his eyes to look worriedly at the hammer. 

Murmuring more to himself than speaking to either dwarf before him, Mahal mutters. “Mayhap, Deathless was right about this fuckwit.” Looking back to stare hard at Thorin, Mahal calls out. “Alright, Durin…”

Fili interrupts. “He’s done nothing wrong! He’s only concerned for Kili, is all! That’s why he smarting off to you. And…and… he was not the one who corrupted me when I was underage. I corrupted HIM! I went to him when I was 37! I begged him to help me.”

“He helped himself quite a bit too, little one.” Mahal snorts. “He was the adult in the situation, not you.” He continues sternly. 

“He is my One. I always knew that.” Fili replies firmly. 

Mahal’s smile returns. “Aye, he is. Now you two need to fuse.” 

Fili’s brows furrow in confusion, but it is Thorin who asks the obvious question. “Fuse?” 

“Aye, once you two fuse as One, your minds, your souls, your very beings fuse together as one. Like ore or stone that gets melted down, smelted together, then cooled to blend together. Forged as One.” Mahal answers.

“Ah…yeah, okay…does this involve the hammer?” Fili squeaks. 

Mahal looks at the hammer in his hands. “No, little one. It involves you and dipshit here kissing and… other things that you two have routinely engaged in” More eyebrow waggling suggestively. “ While alive, you could fuse only for a brief time together. Here in the afterlife, you fuse together forever. The intense pleasure you felt as you had experienced sexual climax will be felt here only for much longer and the boneless, breathy bliss immediately afterwards? Then that is the state you will remain in until the time comes for me and the rest of the Valar to remake the world.” Mahal smiles broadly. 

“Get the fuck OUT!?!” Thorin cries, finally in wonder. Turning to Fili, Thorin starts as he notices he nor the small blondes has any clothing on. “Have we been naked this whole time? No matter, let’s get to it!” He pulls Fili to him and starts kissing him roughly. 

“Wait!” Fili cries, still clearly confused and not sure if this is not some kind of elaborate set up. He pushes Thorin away, who for his part pouts fiercely at the delay. 

“It is no ruse. This is what the Halls of Enlightened Waiting IS. That happy and content and fulfilled feeling… forever.” Mahal sweeps his hand and the mist lifts and dissipates completely. Ones can be seen milling about with that dopey, sleepy, happy look of post coital bliss on each of their faces. 

“Hot DAMN!” Bellows Thorin and begins to paw at the blonde with renewed enthusiasm. Although Fili tries to dodge the roaming hands, the older dwarf is not to be denied. 

“It is okay…go ahead and fuse.” Mahal encourages the pair.

Thorin smiles wolfishly. “Let’s fuse.” He smirks to Fili.

“Wait…hang on a minute… what about in Hall of Reflection? Do they…fuse?” He tries to ask but Thorin keeps kissing him. 

Mahal smiles. “Those in the Hall Reflection does not fuse because they cannot see or interact with any of the others there. They need to spend time alone, reflecting, recalling some of the more poignant points in their lives. Pondering some of the intolerances and nonsensical, inherent biases they had clung to while in Middle Earth. They have an opportunity to take a good look at themselves, alone with only their own thoughts and feelings. Only then are they able to gain the necessary insight and self awareness to come here. To wait for their One. Although, sadly, some actually think that they are in the Halls of Waiting sitting all alone in the Hall of Reflection because those misguided folks, they actually believe that they could be the only ones worthy of being there." 

“Kili thinks his One is an elf.” Fili informs the god sadly. 

Mahal frowns. “What of it if his One is an elf?”

Even with his mind solely focused on the prospect of the best sex EVER and sporting a raging hard-on, those words pierce through the sex haze clouding Thorin’s brain. “What!” He bellows. “Don’t be ridiculous! My nephew’s One is NOT some tree shagger!” 

“Wait…wait…” Fili frown gives way to a dimpled smile. “So elves can come into the Halls of Waiting? Kili and this elf can fuse at some point in the future?” 

Thorin snorts derisively at the very thought, but yet again he is in for another shock. 

" Careful Oakenshield, I may have to throw your hairy arse into the Halls of Reflection, yet!" Booms Mahal. 

“Of course!” Mahal barks towards the small blonde. “All the kinds may worship a different Valar. The different kinds may have a different name for the place to which they go after death, but all the Valar reside here. The Grey Havens, Heaven, the Halls of Waiting, and any of the other various names by which the afterlife is called, all of them are the same place. This place. There is a One for every soul in Middle Earth; although, they may be separated in life by chasms of time and distance. All will be united here, one day, you’ll see.” The god primly informs the two dwarves who are struck dumb by the news. 

“That’s….WONDERFUL!” Fili exclaims. His little brother will eventually be able to experience the same level of love and devotion that he and Thorin share.

“Now, it will be a LONG time before that dipshit elf gains some insight to her rather sophomoric behavior. In particular, her callous behavior in regards to the male, blonde, equally fuckwitted elf she had strung along, but eventually, aye, she and your brother will be reunited here. One day.” Mahal returns Fili’s beaming smile with his own.

“An ELF is Kili’s One?” Thorin asks dubiously.

“Aye. One day, they will be here and they will be together, I assure you.”

“That’s good news.” Fili murmurs. Thorin, obviously appeased by Mahal’s assurances, resumes his ministrations to Fili’s body. 

“Wait…” Fili says again only for Thorin and Mahal to both huff in annoyance. “Wait, what about the blonde fuckwit elf? Will he ever find his One?” 

“Oh aye…he has already seen his One’s likeness, but they have not met. Yet. His One is a comely, red headed dwarf lad, named Gimli.” 

“Well, that’s going to kill Gloin.” Thorin mumbles, rapidly losing interest in the subject of anyone else’s One save his own. He presses kisses to the nape of Fili’s neck. 

Fili shrugs and surrenders to the wonderful feeling of Thorin’s hands on his body. “So be it…” The young dwarf turns to face his One. “Now, let’s fuse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that is it. If any you have read this rather ridiculous story, I hope you have enjoyed it. It has had its sad bits and bits that were meant to be funny. The description of the Halls of Waiting depicted here is entirely made up. This story needed a happy ending for everyone, and what better ending is there but to have everyone in Middle Earth ultimately ending up in a post coital haze with their One? Sounds like heaven to me. Anyway, it was the best I could come with on short notice.  
> I thank you for reading. I greatly appreciate those who made the effort to leave kudos and especially to those who took the time to leave a comment. Thank you.


End file.
